


words in the wind (Tumblr Prompts)

by Willow_bird



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Andreil from an outside perspective, Andreil with cats, Christmas, Cuddling, Depression, Eating Disorders, Fluff, Graphic Violence, Hand Kisses, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Mild Sexual Content, Other, POV Aaron Minyard, POV Andrew Minyard, POV Dan Wilds, POV David Wymack, POV Neil Josten, POV Ronan Lynch, POV Sirius Black, Pining, Protective Aaron Minyard, Uncle Andrew Minyard, Uncle Neil Josten, Wholesome Twinyards, hand holding, holiday fic, neck kisses, outsider pov, pynch - Freeform, soft, triggering language, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 26,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_bird/pseuds/Willow_bird
Summary: A mixture of fluffy and more serious ficlets from my tumblr (@kiirynilcc) compiled in one place.Includes:100 Followers Celebration AsksQuick Kisses Prompts
Relationships: Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Aaron Minyard & Nicky Hemmick, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 43
Kudos: 164
Collections: All For The Game random short stories





	1. andreil finds kitties

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I mostly just wanted to get all my writing in one place. Most of these drabbles are super short. Nothing has been double-posted on AO3, so if it ends up being a long enough answer that I post it as it's own fic, it will NOT be included in this collection. If I ever expand on one of these into something more full-length I'll link it in all the right places ;)
> 
> Everything darker or with trigger warnings are marked with a [M] in the chapter title. I will also list any relevant content warnings in the A/N of each chapter. The chapter summaries will mostly just be the prompt/ask that inspired it. If you have any questions at all please feel free to leave a comment or ping my asks over on my tumblr: [kiirynilcc](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @of-stars-and-moon
> 
> [[Can I do the honours of sending in the first request? Honestly anything you'll write will definitely make my day, but for a specific request, how about andreil getting their cats? Congrats on 100 again 💛💛]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/631239577935462400/can-i-do-the-honours-of-sending-in-the-first)

“All I’m saying is that if someone really wanted to live in a Walmart, it’s entirely possible to do so without being caught. Especially one of those huge ass Super Walmarts. The staff is underpaid, the place is a disorganized mess, there are multiple bathrooms, plenty of food and other supplies, and if you choose the right location you can get one that isn’t 24-hour.”

Andrew looked over at Neil with narrowed eyes, not even bothering to hide his affectionate contempt. “I am not sure what’s more wrong with that statement - your assumption that you can find a Super Walmart that isn’t 24-hour or the implication that a Walmart with closing hours would somehow be better than one that was open all the time, letting you come and go as you please with people less likely to be suspicious of you.”

“Drew.”

“Neil.”

Neil gestured to the large superstore they were just leaving, the plastic bag hanging from his wrist swinging with enough force to knock him in the hip on its return, though the starting striker for the Denver Jaguars didn’t seem to notice. “Look,” he was saying as they walked around the side of the building, heading for the apartment complex behind it where they shared a two-bedroom, “first of all – there are Super Walmarts out there that are not 24-hour. It depends on the township. Secondly, with a store that closes, that guarantees you a set number of hours per day where you could actually sleep or do anything else you wouldn’t want to risk being discovered during. Maintain a membership at a hole-in-the-wall gym nearby that lets you pay in cash, and you’ve got a place to shower and a place with a locker to stash a few things, and you’re set. I’m not saying it’s a permanent sort of setup, but if you’re living in a Walmart of all things, you probably are specifically trying not to be permanent, so, there.”

Andrew rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s smug smirk. “You are a nuisance.”

“Yeah, but I’m your nuisance.”

This time Andrew didn’t bother rolling his eyes, he just lifted a hand, pressed it flat to the side of Neil’s arm, and shoved.

Neil stumbled sideways with a laugh that turned into a yelp and then a crash as he tripped over his own feet and ended up slamming into the side of the building and the bag on his wrist kissed the unforgiving stone. Andrew winced at the sound, but considering most of what was in Neil’s bag was pasta and canned goods he didn’t think any of the food was damaged.

“One would think a professional striker would have a little bit more coordination off the court,” Andrew drawled as Neil righted himself. If he scanned his gaze over the other man in a covert flick of the eyes just to make sure he wasn’t actually injured, no one was around to know.

“Fuck y– what’s that?” Neil’s venom vanished halfway through the second syllable, replaced with a lighter curiosity that had Andrew following the other’s gaze down the line of the building to the partially enclosed alcove where the dumpsters were. Andrew was just about to point out that it looked very much like a bunch of trash when what he’d thought was a bunch of soiled newspapers moved in a very alive sort of way. 

“Probably a raccoon,” Andrew said, even as Neil moved forward. He frowned and followed him. “If you get bit, I’m not taking you to get your rabies sh–”

This time, Andrew was the one who stopped mid-syllable. 

As they came up to the dumpsters, the crumpled dirty newspapers moved again, this time to reveal the truth of what they were:

Two tiny, emaciated, shivering little black and white kittens. One was almost entirely white with black little ears and a thin tail with an extra tuft of black fur weirdly sticking out about halfway down. The slightly bigger one was a more mottled black and white and it was the one that gave the tiniest hiss as the two men approached. 

Andrew blinked at the kittens. The mottled one hissed again. The little white one squeaked.

Without really thinking about it, Andrew crouched down and shrugged out of his hoodie, ignoring the bite of mid-autumn as the wind rustled the much thinner fabric of his black t-shirt. He set down the sweatshirt on the ground right in front of the kittens and watched, silently, as they sniffed it and then wobbled onto the softer, warmer spot. The black and white one hissed again, climbing on top of the little white squeaky one and beginning to lick its ears. The little whitish one squeaked again.

Andrew looked up at Neil. Neil looked back at Andrew. For a moment they just stared at each other. Then, without any other verbal decision needing to be made, Neil switched his bag to the other hand so he could pull out his wallet and double-check how much cash he still had on him. “I’ll meet you at home then?”

Andrew nodded, turning back to the kittens and carefully folding the sweatshirt around them to keep them warm without smooshing them or covering their faces. “Remember Josten, kitten food - not regular cat food.”

“There’s a difference?” There was no mockery in Neil’s voice, just curiosity and the question for confirmation.

Andrew nodded, lifting the little bundle into his arms, then reaching out to grab Neil’s bag with his other hand. “Higher in fat and other nutrients.”

“Got it. Alright, I’ll see you at home.”

“See you.” Then, as Neil headed back around the building to pick up the supplies, Andrew carefully carried the two kittens to their new home.


	2. wolfstar hand-holding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @wolfywordweaver
> 
> [[Congratulations on reaching 100 followers!!! A little WolfStar drabble about the first time they hold hands romantically would be lovely. <3]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/631284664980652033/congratulations-on-reaching-100-followers-a)

Remus slipped as silently from his bed as possible, grimacing at the chill of the stone floor against his bare feet. James had stolen all of their rugs for some kind of scheme that Remus was sure they’d all regret later, and he wasn’t wearing any socks because he hated the feeling of them catching on the sheets as he attempted to get comfortable at night. As such, even when he did wear socks to bed, he usually ended kicking them off in the process of settling in. 

This wouldn’t be an issue, but for the incredibly annoying (and annoyingly repetitive) occurrence of Sirius stealing his slippers – a rather redundant action, considering he had been the one to purchase them for him last year for Christmas.

He thought he was so clever, the slippers being shaped like wolves and all. Then of course he decided to take himself for a thief and swiped them regularly for his own use. 

As the slippers weren’t where Remus preferred to keep them in front of his nightstand, that meant that they were probably being held hostage by the nefarious dust bunnies lurking under Siruis’s bed. Unwilling to risk waking the other boy by rustling the drawn curtains of his four-poster, Remus opted to dig his socks out of the tangled blankets of the foot of his bed. 

Two minutes later, Remus was sneaking quietly down the stairs. He bypassed the cozy armchairs by the dimly smoldering fireplace and held his breath as he crept past the study tables where two fourth-year girls had passed out atop a smattering of books, quills, and bits of parchment. Remus could see ink smudged on one of the girls’ cheeks from where she’d taken an essay as a pillow. If he wasn’t attempting to be stealthy, he might have slipped over to them to either nudge them awake and send them off to bed or at least snoop to see what class they were about to be behind in. 

As it currently was, however, he did not want to wake them, so he curbed his curiosity and inched toward the portrait hole on sock-muffled feet. He got a whole six more steps before a quiet sound behind him had him whipping around. 

“Sneaking off without me, Moony? I’m wounded.” Sirius was kneeling on the cushion of his favorite chair before the fire, arms folded over the back of it, his cheek cradled in the crook of his elbow. The tilt of his head and the position he had arranged himself in meant that only one devilish dimple teased from the corner of his mouth. Remus’s heart didn’t particularly seem to notice the lacking, considering it had instantly switched from the jolt of alarm to the familiar stutter of Merlin-be-damnd swooning the second he caught sight of him.

With all the suave and distinguished eloquence he possessed, Remus said, “Uhh…”

Sirius chuckled, a low and warm sound that reminded Remus of the crackling of the hearth and the fizz of butterbeer tickling his nose. Then the other boy stood from the chair and as he rounded it Remus’s eyes were drawn down to the happy-looking wolf faces on the slippers currently warming the other wizard’s feet. 

Remus narrowed his eyes, lifted his gaze, and glared. 

Sirius paused and damn him and those big brown puppy dog eyes and sheepish smile – but Remus would not be swayed. Those were his slippers.

“Why did you even get me those slippers if you were just going to steal them all the time?” he hissed, keeping his voice low even as he cast a quick glance over at the two fourth-years. One let out a small snore; the other appeared to be drooling. Remus really hoped it wasn’t Transfiguration homework.

“No changing the subject,” Sirius chided quickly, changing the subject because apparently, he could set the rules and then also ignore them – prat. “Where were you sneaking off to at…” he paused and looked up at the lion-faced pendulum clock on the mantel “…two o’clock in the morning?”

Remus sighed. He knew it was no use to argue with Sirius now, especially not as he could see the shadow of concern behind his mask of amused curiosity. A couple of weeks ago, he still might have tried to brush it off. He’d have fidgeted and shrugged, dodging around the subject until Sirius got the truth out of him or gave up for the moment. 

Except… well, things had changed, hadn’t they? He and Sirius were… well, he wasn’t really sure what they were. No, that wasn’t true. He knew they were friends. But… they were also… more. That night in the forest had changed things between the two of them and just because they hadn’t exactly sat down and talked about it didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. 

“Remus?” Sirius spoke his name quietly, drawing him out of his thoughts. 

He offered a small smile and shrugged. “Sorry. in my head again. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“So you were going to… what, wander the castle on your own?” Sirius looked skeptical. 

Heat touched Remus’s cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I was gonna go down to the lake, just to sit for a while, get out of my head a bit.” With the exception of the first day of term when the first-years were brought across the river on the boats, the boathouse beneath the castle was all but abandoned. Remus used that exit to get out to the lake, sitting at the edge of the narrow pier or walking the strip of ground against the castle to an old stone bench dedicated to some long-gone wizard whose name was mostly eroded away. 

“In your socks?”

Remus scowled at him, which only made Sirius grin. 

“Sorry,” Sirius amended through a chuckle before sobering. He gestured toward the fireplace with a nod. “Come sit with me instead? It’s cold out there.”

Remus felt warmth returning to his cheeks as he looked from Sirius to the fireplace and the various chairs and couches around it, then over to where the two girls were still snoozing on their homework. 

“They aren’t waking up anytime soon,” Sirius said when he followed his gaze. “And we could sit on the small couch. I mean… if you wanted to.” The small couch had its back to the study tables. If the girls did wake up and look over, they wouldn’t see anything.

NOT THAT THEY WOULD BE DOING ANYTHING. 

Remus was blushing so hard he felt dizzy and was only slightly mollified to see that Sirius was also tinged pink. Except, of course, that Remus thought Sirius’s blush was really, incredibly adorable so that didn’t really help matters. 

Needing to move things along so he didn’t stand there any longer making a fool of himself, Remus cleared his throat lightly. “Y-yeah,” he squeaked. Then coughed and tried again a half-octave lower and closer to a normal speaking register for a sixteen-year-old boy as opposed to a nine-year-old girl. “Yeah. Sure. Good. Let’s yes. I mean, let’s do this. That. Not that we are doing anything! I mean–”

He stopped abruptly as Sirius reached out and grabbed his hand.

All the breath froze in his lungs as the whole world narrowed down to the warm weight wrapped around his fingers. Sirius looked about as surprised as he felt, but after a moment, instead of pulling away, Sirius adjusted his grip so that their fingers interlocked. His expression smoothed and he took a small step forward. 

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “I know. It’s… we don’t have to talk about it. But… will you sit with me?” There was a rawness in Sirius’s voice that pulled Remus out of his own head and the echo-chamber of his own pulse resounding between his ears. He really looked at Sirius – looked at him and saw the dark eyes with the faint shadows under them, the slightly pursed lips, the traces of tension in his proud shoulders. Worry, hope, fatigue, and a tremulous vulnerability that Remus wasn’t sure he really showed anyone else. 

Something inside Remus unlocked and relaxed. He squeezed Sirius’s hand and offered a small smile as he nodded. “Yeah. I… I would like that.”

Remus got to watch some of that tension fall off the other boy’s shoulders, got to watch the warmth seep into his eyes even as both dimples winked out to tease him now. Sirius tugged on his hand and Remus let him lead him over to the couch and pull him down beside him. The whole time, Remus was incredibly aware of the heat that was Sirius’s hand in his – like it was an anchor of light tethering him to a secret universe only he and Sirius had access to. He’d known Sirius since his very first day at Hogwarts and over the years they’d probably held hands a hundred times over – running from various bits of trouble and playing games and doing things as friends do them – but this time… this was different. 

Sirius held his hand, but it felt like he had his fingers right on the pulse of Remus’s heart. 

When they were situated on the couch, side by side, Sirius still didn’t let go and Remus didn’t want him to. He squeezed lightly, and Sirius squeezed back. Then, after a moment there was a gentle weight against his arm, followed by the tickle of Sirius’s hair against his neck as his head found a pillow of his shoulder. Remus’s lungs tightened and his heart skipped. Then, making a decision, he let himself relax against the cushion. He let himself melt back and sink in. He let himself tilt his head in turn so that his cheek rested on the loveably tousled mess of Sirius’s hair. 

They sat there as the fire quietly crackled and dimmed, neither speaking but neither needing to. All they needed was to be there, together – shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.


	3. andreil cuddles: big spoon andrew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous: 
> 
> [[Congratulations on 100!!! To celebrate this may i request ultra soft, extremely tooth-rotting fluff of andreil cuddling and Andrew as big spoon please. You're amazing and i love your writing! Keep being awesome <3]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/631416441252511744/congratulations-on-100-to-celebrate-this-may-i)

They were calling it the “Snowpocalypse” – because apparently, college just wasn’t dramatic enough with all the mafias and deranged bird fanatics; they needed to insinuate that the end of the world was coming via several thousand tons of fluffy white shit that would just not stop falling from the damned sky.

“What about a blowtorch?” Neil offered without looking away from the window. He was bundled up in his thickest sweats, Andrew’s Depeche Mode hoodie (because it was big and soft and warmer than his own sole Foxes hoodie), and two pairs of socks (at Andrew’s insistence because ‘I am not putting up with your cold feet later on, Josten’). Outside, he couldn’t even see the street - it was just white.

“Mm,” was Andrew’s skeptical response. When Neil did look over at him, the diminutive goalkeeper just raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

“What? It’s a good idea. The snow would melt instantly, we could carve a path out of the dorm, free your car, and make a break for it.”

“And once we got into the car? The Maserati is not designed to fly and the snow is already too deep to drive over. Even if it did manage some forward motion, one hard gust and we’d be trapped in a snowbank.”

“Sure, but we’d still have the blowtorch.” Neil flashed a cheeky smirk and Andrew rolled his eyes.

“Get away from the window, Neil, your nose is turning red and it is not attractive.”

Neil was well enough versed in Andrew to know that probably meant the opposite and his smirk broadened into a grin. “Andrew Minyard did you just call me cute?”

“No.”

“Andrew Minyard do you think I’m adorable?”

Andrew scowled. “No. And you know what? Stay there. Press your face to the window. Get frostbite. I don’t care.”

Neil was well enough versed in Andrew to know that he did, in fact, care. This was Andrew, after all. He was a bit stabby and held little regard for most people – but then again, so did Neil – but he was also probably the most caring person Neil knew. He just didn’t show it the same way other people did, and he didn’t just hand out his consideration like free samples at the supermarket. Once you’d earned Andrew’s regard, however, he would always have your back. Once you’d earned his care, his affection, and his loyalty, you’d gained yourself a gift that was worth far more than the cheap love of lesser creatures.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Andrew grumbled, pulling Neil out of his thoughts.

“Like what?” Neil blinked and touched his face. He wasn’t sure what expression he’d been wearing, but he did notice that the tips of Andrew’s ears were pink and Andrew was currently bundled up on the bed under two comforters, so Neil didn’t think it was the cold.

“Idiot,” Andrew scoffed, then pushed himself up a bit and lifted the blanket. “Come here already, would you. Just looking at you is making me feel cold and you know how I feel about the cold.”

The whole team knew how Andrew felt about the cold, and about snow in particular. On the first day of this so-called 'Snowpocalypse’, the team had assembled downstairs before morning practice to find themselves snowed in behind about three feet of snow piled up against the glass doors. Andrew had stared at it for a whole three seconds before hurling his half-full coffee cup at the door and then turning around to head back upstairs. No one had made the mistake into assuming he was upset about missing practice, but the rest of the foxes were taking bets on whether it was a snow thing, a cold thing, a car thing, or if he had just been in a really bad mood. Neil still didn’t participate in the betting that the foxes found so entertaining, but he was pretty sure it was a combination of all of the above.

He could have asked, he supposed, but he’d just figured that if Andrew wanted to talk about it, he would. Since he hadn’t brought it up at all, Neil wouldn’t question it.

He would snuggle up under the covers with him, though. For warmth, of course.

Neil grinned and scurried to the bed, climbing into the narrow twin beside Andrew with his back to Andrew’s front. The moment he was in position, the blankets closed around him and Andrew’s arm tucked snugly around his waist.

“You’re cold,” Andrew complained, but the admonishment lacked venom – particularly with the way Andrew was lightly rubbing his nose against the back of Neil’s neck. Hot breath tickled his skin and Neil relaxed more solidly against the pillow. He was careful not to lean back against Andrew or put any weight on him, not wanting to make him feel trapped or feel uncomfortable. This was an unnecessary concern apparently, though, because a moment later Andrew’s arm tightened around him and pulled him closer, erasing the scant bit of space between them. Neil’s heart did a little bit of a hiccup in his chest and he turned his face to hide his smile in the pillow even though Andrew couldn’t see it anyway.

“Mm, I’m warming up already though.” Neil’s voice was slightly muffled from the pillow, but even he could hear the dreamy little smile in it that he must be wearing. Andrew just had an effect on him, okay? He couldn’t control it. It was Andrew’s fault.

Andrew snorted, then placed the smallest kiss on the back of his neck. “Good, then you can reach out and press play.”

Andrew had been watching movies on his laptop earlier, but had paused it when they’d started talking about alternative methods of escaping the Snowpocalypse. Neil snaked a hand out from under the protective shell of the comforter, having to lean away from Andrew to reach the laptop, which was positioned on a stack of textbooks next to the bed. He tapped the space bar and the movie started up again. Neil wasn’t sure what it was, but he didn’t really care, either – because even as he’d leaned away Andrew’s arm had remained tight around his middle, keeping him close. When he returned to his position, Andrew nuzzled at his neck and placed another small kiss just at the back of his jaw.

“See?” Neil teased. “I think you do care.” He laughed when Andrew’s teeth grazed his skin this time in a sharp nip of admonishment.

“Watch the damn movie, Josten,” Andrew grumbled in his ear – but he didn’t deny it.

Maybe this *Snowpocalypse* wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	4. uncle andreil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @blue-hail:
> 
> [[Cute uncle!Andrew and Neil with Aaron’s future kids!]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/631776389964627968/cute-uncleandrew-and-neil-with-aarons-future)

The reunion had been Abby’s idea, and while Wymack had done some obligatory grumping about the idea of having this particular group of Foxes invading their house (”I hope you remembered to hide the liquor.” “David, they’re all legal adults now and we’re inviting them over to drink with us.” “Make sure you have the fire department on standby.” “David, I highly doubt they’re going to burn down the house.” “I swear to fuck if those Minyards think they’re going break my shit I’ll haul their asses out to the park and leave them in a cardboard box.” “David, I think you’re being a bit dramatic.”) he was able to admit, at least to himself, that he was looking forward to seeing them again. 

Sure, he’d kept up with all of them individually in his own way, and they’d gotten together periodically over the years, but this would be the first time in at least a decade that the lot of them would be under one roof – under his roof – and he was looking forward to seeing with how own eyes how they were doing. 

He’d thought he’d known what to expect. 

After all, he’d paid attention to the pro careers of Matt, Allison, Kevin, Neil, and Andrew. He spoke with Renee at least once a year in person when she came by PSU to hand-deliver her donations (and Allison was usually with her these last few years as well). He saw less of Nicky and Aaron, since Nicholas had returned to Germany after graduation and Aaron had moved on to medical school and that was even more rigorous than the training schedule he’d put them through, but he was still aware of their general well-being. Dan he probably saw the most, as she’d gone on to coaching and was now in the same division as PSU, running a newer exy team at a small public university in northern Georgia. Kevin was always around for the holidays and visited during the off-season, and they spoke on the phone regularly – so he was generally up-to-date with his son’s life. 

It had started out within the bounds of his expectations. Nicky and Erik had flown in the night before and stayed at a hotel in town, but Dan and Matt had arrived first because Nicholas Klose still didn’t understand the function of a goddamn alarm clock. A prompt Renee and Allison showed up a little after them, followed by a harried Nicky and an exasperated Erik. Kevin ambled in solo, followed by Neil and Andrew, who still looked unbothered by the whole damn world (probably because they were the ones typically setting it on fire, but hey - what did he know?). Last to arrive were Aaron and his wife, former Vixen and one of the youngest female neurosurgeons in the field, Katelyn. 

That was when things got… strange. 

Wymack had been in the kitchen, pouring a seltzer for his (three years sober) son, when he heard the front door open and Abby greet the final arrivals. He heard a small, excited little voice call out, “Unca Annew!! Unca Neew!!” Then there was the rapid patter of little feet followed by a squeal of delight and a deep laugh that Wymack couldn’t place because he’d legitimately never heard it before. 

Curious and confused, Wymack stepped out of the kitchen just enough to peer into the foyer and his eyes didn’t quite register what he was seeing. 

Andrew was standing in the foyer with a blond-haired little girl in his arms who couldn’t be any older than three (though frankly, he was shit at guessing ages on munchkins). He was grinning and hugging her, listening as she jabbered on about something-or-other. Neil was standing at his shoulder, also smiling, though his attention diverted and his expression softened in a way that Wymack hadn’t known the venomous little viper to be capable of. 

“U-unca Neewy?” Wymack noticed that the little girl in Andrew’s arms wasn’t the only child present. An identical child in a different colored dress was huddling behind her mother’s legs, looking anxious at the new place and the strange woman (Abby) who kept smiling down at her. 

“Hey there Pips,” Neil said quietly, crouching down and opening his arms in offering. It took a moment, then the little girl cautiously edged away from her mother before half-tripping on uncoordinated legs the five or six steps it took her to get to Neil, who wrapped her up in his arms as natural as breathing and hugged her tight. He murmured something in her ear that Wymack couldn’t hear and when the little girl nodded he scooped her up and kissed her cheek before turning to join Andrew and the other small child. 

Andrew and Neil holding children. Andrew and Neil being good with children. Andrew and Neil, smiling and laughing and comforting small little children. It was such a bizarre thing that Wymack didn’t really think when he spouted off a bewildered, “What the actual fuck?”

Seven faces instantly snapped to where he was standing and it took more will than he liked to admit for Wymack not to cower under the five disapproving adult gazes and the two shocked child ones. 

“David!” Abby hissed, and he grimaced an apology. 

“Ooooooo, he said it! He said it!” crowed the chatterbox in Andrew’s grasp. 

Andrew looked like he was about ready to commit murder and never in all the years had he known the bastard had Wymack ever felt intimidated by him – until now. It made no sense, but somehow, he became about thirty times more effective with a small child in his arms. What the fuck was up with that?

The other child made a timid little whimpering sound and Neil shot him a similar promise of an untimely death with one scathing narrowing of his eyes. Suddenly, Wymack was very eager to cancel his plans to go see the Denver Wildcats next game. 

Then Neil softened again in that way that made Wymack feel like he’d been transported to an alternate dimension. He bounced the child gently and murmured quietly to her, and this time Wymack was able to hear what he said. 

“I know he’s big and loud, but that’s Wymack. Remember I told you about him?”

“Uh-huh…”

“Remember what I said?”

“Uh-huh…”

“Pips.” The tone was gentle, but still commanding in a way that eerily reminded Wymack of Betsy. This was getting too weird. 

The little girl hugged Neil tighter around the neck, then took two deep breaths before pulling back and peaking over at where he was still standing right at the entrance of the kitchen. She studied him warily before saying, “He’s da bear man.”

The… bear man? What… the fuck?

“That’s right. He’s big and loud but very soft. And he’ll stay far away if you don’t want him close.” 

Wymack was pretty sure he needed to lay down.

Thankfully, Aaron finally decided to speak the fuck up. Granted, the tiny fucker sounded way too amused for his own good. “Coach, you haven’t met the twins yet. The little energizer bunny with Andrew is Penny and Neil’s got Piper. Piper is a bit shy, that’s all. She’s not all that great with strangers still.”

“Alright family, let’s get out of the foyer hm? Would you girls like some snacks? I bet Uncle Andrew will show you where the cookies are if you ask him nicely,” Katelyn offered with a knowing smile.

It had an immediate effect. Even the shy one, Piper, lit up like damn Christmas tree as both girls looked to Andrew like he was here to deliver them Salvation. In a childlike unison that had absolutely no right being that adorable, both girls gasped, “Cookies?!”

Andrew smirked. Then he chuckled and kissed Penny on the cheek. “Oh, I think I can find something.”

Wymack stepped out of the way as Andrew led the way with Penny, Neil and Piper right behind them, into the kitchen.

He watched them go, then just stood there, gobsmacked for a moment. Katelyn was the one to cross over to him and pat him consolingly on the shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, Neil has already offered both of them to teach them how to pick locks when they turn five.”

It did but it didn’t. 

Aaron snickered unhelpfully. “Go have a drink, Coach. If that is fucking you up, just wait until tea time.”

“Tea time?” Even to his own ears, his voice came out raspy. “What the fuck is tea time?”

Aaron cackled in response. Cackled. 

Jesus Christ, this was not what he had signed up for.


	5. pynch sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous: 
> 
> [[Congrats!! If you want, how about the first time Ronan sleeps over at St. Agnes? Like the pining!!]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/632285118830133248/congrats-if-you-want-how-about-the-first-time)

Ronan bounced the rubber ball against the sloped ceiling from where he lay on Adam’s bed, waiting for the other boy to get out of the shower. He’d been out, just driving around with no discernable purpose or direction, when it came around that time for Parrish to get out of work so he’d swung by and picked him up. There’d been no reason to say no when Adam had asked if he wanted to come up for a while. After all, he and Adam were friends – no matter how much they seemed to bicker – and Ronan liked being at St. Agnes. Sometimes, it was honestly more satisfying to be there than it was to be at Monmouth. Nothing beat being at the Barnes, but still – St. Agness had a particular energy, it always had. 

After all, Ronan Lynch was no stranger to St. Agnes. The hours he’d spent in the quiet pews could stack together to build a universe apart from the rest of the world, a separate realm that even the horrors inside his own mind couldn’t touch. And yet, since Adam came to live there, the hallowed halls of that familiar place had developed a completely new,,, feeling that Ronan had no idea how to feel about. 

A part of Ronan wanted to be pissed off about it. 

A bigger part of Ronan was fascinated in the way that the travelers in his father’s stories had always been fascinated by the glow of will-o’-the-wisps between the branches of the deep woods and frosted bogs. The peace that the church had once given him was spiked with something else now, something that fizzed like pop-rocks under his skin, and as annoying as that was – he really couldn’t say that he hated it. 

Considering he knew that the fizz of… enchantment was most definitely caused by the boy now living in that small, slanted room above the church? No, he really couldn’t say that he hated it at all. 

Not to say that Adam I’ll-be-independent-if-it-kills-me Parrish didn’t make him want to punch his fist through a fucking brick wall – because he absolutely did. But there was also something… undeniably right about the boy taking up residence above the church. After all, the infuriating pest already lived full time inside his head, he might as well sleep in the building that housed Ronan’s soul as well. At least he was fucking consistent. 

The shabby door connecting the bedroom to the tiny bathroom creaked open and Ronan caught the ball on its rebound and didn’t throw it again, instead turning his head to look as Adam entered the room. 

He did not expect to see Adam walk into the bedroom in nothing but a towel and instantly looked back up at the ceiling, throwing the ball again with a bit more force than necessary. Only his quick reflexes saved him from losing a fucking eye. He tried not to think about the way the other boy’s skin had been flushed pink from the heat of the shower, his hair damp and pushed haphazardly back from his face, exposing cheekbones and eyes that…

Okay, he tried – that didn’t mean he succeeded. 

“Sorry, it’ll just be a minute. I forgot to grab something to change into.” Adam’s voice was soft, lilted with the Henrietta accent in the way that only happened when he was either really emotional or perfectly at ease. Ronan would never tell him how much he loved hearing the edge of gravel and wild country grass around his vowels, not on pain of death, but that didn’t make it any less true. 

“Take your time, Parrish. I don’t fucking care.” No one needed to know that the sigh that followed was relief at how nonchalant he had managed to make the words, instead of the dry irritation it sounded like. 

Adam huffed a soft laugh and Ronan could feel the eye-roll being directed at him. He didn’t bother to hide his grin, just gave it a bit more teeth as he tossed the ball up and caught it again. 

It was only another few minutes before the door creaked open again and Adam came out – this time fully clothed. Ronan caught the ball and sat up, scooting over so that Adam could come over and sit down, which the other boy did with a flourish and a groan. 

“Ugh, I just do not wanna do homework.”

“Then don’t.” Ronan shrugged and bounced the ball on the floor this time, angling it slightly so that when it rebounded it went toward Adam. 

Adam caught it easily and bounced it back, timed perfectly with a familiar scoff. “Some of us care about school, you know.” Ronan waited for a beat, but when Adam didn’t follow that up with chastisement or prod for him to start caring about school, he gave a small shrug. 

“Sure, but tomorrow is Saturday. It isn’t like you’ve got anything due tomorrow. You just got off work, learn how to fucking relax.” He caught the ball and held it for a moment, tilting his head back as he mimicked a thoughtful expression. “Oh, oh that’s right, you don’t know how to relax.” He gave a deep, mournful sigh and bounced the ball back at him. “Shame, for man so smart to be missing such a vital real-life skill.”

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious,” Adam sniped back, but his words were sharpened more with amusement than irritation. 

“Oh, I know. I’m a regular comedy special,” Ronan agreed readily. “But that, actually, was not a joke.” He could press here. He could remind Adam that his whole world didn’t need to be as rigid as he was making it to be. He could tell him that he could afford to take a break every now and then, that he deserved to chill the fuck out. But if he did that he risked sounding too much like Gansey or repeating an argument that neither of them probably felt like jumping into tonight. So instead, he caught the ball and cocked his head, studying the other boy curiously. 

Then he asked, “Where would you go? If you could go anywhere in the world with no consequences. What would you do? And not to accomplish anything great or whatever – I’m talking just for fun.”

Adam held up his hand for the ball and Ronan tossed it to him. His eyes caught on the way he began to roll it between his palms, those long fingers curling around it, bony wrists twisting to pass it from one hand to the other. Ronan had the sudden urge to brush his lips over the prominent bump in each wrist. Not in a kiss – but just to feel the protrusion against his mouth. 

“That’s pretty broad,” Adam said with a hum, oblivious to his distraction. “There’s a lot of places I could go.”

“That’s the point. There’s no consequences, no limits. You could go anywhere.” He dragged his gaze away from those hands but this time they caught on the exposed bit of Adam’s collarbone on the way up to his face. “So pick a place, Parrish. Never known you to be so indecisive.”

Adam’s eyes dropped from where they’d been thoughtfully searching the ceiling, locking onto his as he flashed a sharp smirk. That expression cut him right between the ribs, twisted, and nestled in nice and deep for the winter – because this, this was the Adam Parrish he couldn’t stop thinking about. Everyone seemed to underestimate him. Everyone thought he was so soft, thought he was so polite and sweet and yeah sure, he was all of those things, but that was only one part of him. It was just the surface setting to the multiverse that was Adam Parrish, and this sharp, biting, cunning side of him was closer to his core. Ronan knew he was one of the only people who knew that side was there, and was probably the only person who truly understood how much a part of him that facet was. 

“All right,” he said, his voice smooth and low and Ronan had the distinct certainty that if that sound were a drink it would be a spiked mulled cider, husky and tart in a way that made your head light and your chest warm. “I’ll play. But you go first. Where would you go? Somewhere outside of the States,” he added, before Ronan could say the Barnes – because he was apparently that predictable. 

Ronan rolled his eyes, but shrugged and slipped off the bed, laying on the floor beside the bed and pillowing his hands under his head as he thought. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Adam stretch out on the bed on his stomach, hugging a pillow and using it to prop his head up a bit as he looked down at Ronan. The feel of Adam’s full and undivided attention on him did things to his pulse he didn’t want to think about. 

“Probably Ireland,” he finally said after a long moment of thought that was torn up and distributed between flickers of distraction caused by Adam’s silhouette in his peripheral, from the way his damp hair was falling into his eyes now that it was beginning to dry all the way to the slump of his broad shoulders and the sharp jut of his elbows against the cushions. There just really wasn’t any part of Adam Parrish that Ronan didn’t want to look at. 

A soft huff of laughter had Ronan turning his head to look at him straight on and the amusement on the other boy’s face told him that he was being predictable again. Ronan frowned – he didn’t like being predictable. 

“Don’t give me that look. Tell me why, Ronan Lynch.” There was a teasing note in Adam’s voice, and if it were anyone else that would have brought Ronan’s back up – would have made him snap his teeth and snarl. Coming from Adam, he had to give himself a moment so he didn’t trip over his own foolish tongue. 

Somehow he managed to avoid that humiliation. Instead, he told Adam about Ireland through his father’s eyes. He told himself he didn’t care about the softening of Adam’s smile, that it did absolutely nothing to him to watch the other boy close his eyes and rest his cheek on the pillow, leaving himself vulnerable as he dipped into his own thoughts. Rather, he focused on the stories he was telling Adam, reliving them as he did his best impression of his father’s cadence and storyteller’s hum. He told him stories about the fair folk, the fey and the night creatures. He told him about the magic of each valley and river and dale. He shared his favorite tales about cheeky brownies and powerful, dangerous sidhe that became captivated by the bright, fleeting magic of a human’s ability to create. 

Adam listened to each one, and that smile…? It never faded, not even once. 

“It’s your turn,” Ronan finally said, when his heart was full and his lungs tight – torn between the memories caused by those stories and these newer, more electric feelings caused by the proximity of Adam Parrish’s smile.

“Mm, I think… I think that if I were to go anywhere in the world I’d want to see high mountains. High mountains and dark woods. Deep lakes. Flowers that seem to have their own language between the brightness of their colors and the way they sway toward and away from each other in a wind that affects them and them alone. Butterflies that cast shadows like birds of prey…” As he spoke his words drew further and further apart, his tone drifting as fatigue from the long day dragged him down toward sleep. 

Ronan held his breath, almost wanting to prod him for more – because it was rare to hear Adam talk… well, like a dreamer. Adam was a boy who kept himself grounded so deeply in reality it was sometimes painful for Ronan to be around him. This secret side of him, this side of dreams and hope and wonder… it was a vulnerable side that he knew Adam wouldn’t be indulging in if he weren’t perfectly comfortable and probably way more tired than he’d originally thought he was. It was a side of him that Ronan had always known existed (you couldn’t chase a dead Welsh king without being at least part whimsy, no matter how charismatic Gansey was) but one that Adam kept very close to the chest. 

“Mm… Ronan?” Adam’s voice was soft and sleep-slurred, his eyelashes shielding the color of his eyes, he was barely able to keep them open. 

“Yeah?” Ronan’s voice was rough, even to his own ears, but Adam didn’t seem to notice.

“Do you think a place like that actually exists?” The question was light, but there was a raw, sweet shard of hope beneath the words that cut Ronan in a tender space below his throat. 

“Yes,” Ronan promised with certainty, not even needing to think about it – not even needing to question it. “I know it does.”

Adam’s eyes dropped all the way closed and he smiled, sighing in relief. That sigh transitioned directly into the deep, slow breaths of sleep. 

Ronan knew that he should get up. Sleeping on the floor would give him one hell of a backache, and Adam hadn’t said he could stay over. He should get up and stretch, then drive back to Monmouth, where he should crawl into his own bed for the night – or maybe stay up longer and bother Gansey, because fuck knew that guy didn’t understand the concept of a regulated sleeping schedule. 

Instead, Ronan watched Adam until his own eyes just couldn’t stay open any longer. Then, from the floor of St. Agnes, beside the boy who called to him like a fire-sprite, Ronan dreamed. He dreamed of dark woods and flowers that seemed to have their own language, between their bright colors and the way they swayed in their own self-contained breezes. He dreamed of butterflies that cast shadows like birds of prey. He dreamed of safe places even in the dark woods – and when Ronan dreamed… well, when Ronan dreamed, reality itself seemed to listen.


	6. Kisses: andreil + top of the head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @80daysofunsaidthings
> 
> [[43 combined with 33 for the writing prompt! Low key Andrew being surprised when neil asks “yes or no” to trying something and how much Andrew just loves these plantoir kisses]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/634095400281899008/43-combined-with-33-for-the-writing-prompt-low)

It had been a long fucking day and Andrew was done. So done. Between the snow and practice and schoolwork and Aaron being a bigger dick than usual because him and that cheerleader were having some kind of spat (which was somehow his fault..??) he was just done.

So, when he returned to the dorm he was looking forward to hiding in the bedroom with the shades drawn and the door shut and everyone else banished for the foreseeable future. Unfortunately, the bedroom was not empty when he arrived. Granted, of the people who could be inhabiting the space Neil was the least offensive. Neil at least was the least likely to aggravate his building headache, if only because he was the least prone to senseless, useless chatter.

Neil looked up when he entered the room but didn’t say anything. Instead, he did that annoying thing where he looked at him and just seemed to.. to flawlessly understand without Andrew having to say anything. He hummed, just once, then set his book aside and pushed to his feet. Without saying anything, he just slipped right out the door, angling his body as he moved past Andrew so not even their elbows brushed.

Andrew kinda wanted to punch him for his consideration.

Whatever.

He kicked the door shut behind him and sank down on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh, letting his shoulders slump and his head hang. He didn’t even have the fucking energy to take his fucking shoes off.

Not even a full minute passed before there was a quiet knock on the door. Andrew grit his teeth and lifted his head just enough to glare at it as it slotted open just wide enough and just long enough to slip back into the room. Neil still didn’t say anything as he came to stand before him and in his hands…

Andrew blinked, then looked up at the stupid little idiot.

Neil gave him a small smile, just the slightest quirk at the corner of his mouth, and waggled the spoon and pint of ice cream in his hands.

“…Nicky at the last of it yesterday,” was all Andrew was able to say, confused and annoyed and also feeling that funny warmth in his chest that Neil caused whenever he did things and looked at him like – well, like that, the way he was looking at him right now.

Neil shrugged. “I know. I made him go get more a little while ago.”

“You don’t like ice cream.” So why should he care?

“No. But you do.” Oh.

Andrew scowled up at him and Neil’s smile went even more impossibly gooey. The striker stepped forward and held out the ice cream. The he asked, softly, “Hey Andrew?”

“What?”

“Yes or no?”

Andrew glared at him, then sighed. “Yes, you insufferable idiot.”

Neil smiled, then leaned down and instead of going for his lips just placed a sweet but firm kiss on the top of his head.

Andrew blinked, then felt his cheeks swiftly heat, his ears gently roasting as he growled and snatched the ice cream out of Neil’s hands with some extra violence for good measure.

“One hundred and fucking fifteen, Josten you fucking–” He couldn’t think of anything appropriate so just scoffed and glared at him. “Go read your fucking book.”

Neil smirked, but didn’t argue. Andrew turned to his ice cream, and okay - maybe he was a little (a little) bit pleased.


	7. Kisses: andreil + pouting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @of-stars-and-moon:
> 
> [[if you do 16 for the kiss prompt i'll die happily]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/634134922885496832/if-you-do-16-for-the-kiss-prompt-ill-die-happily)

“Well,” Dan was saying from the other side of Neil, “at least we don’t have a game on Friday.”

They were all standing at the edge of the stadium, looking in on the flooded court. Andrew was honestly kind of impressed that a pipe had managed to burst in exactly the right place to be able to put about three inches of standing water in the inner court, making it look like some king of janky attempt at an oversized aquarium that got turned into a kiddie pool for economic reasons.

Kevin was already on the phone with a cleaning crew. He’d called a plumber first and dished out such ruthless, vicious orders for them to get their asses out here as soon as possible that Andrew wouldn’t be surprised if they saluted him when they actually showed up. Gotta say it for Kevin, he was nothing if not a man of action.

“But.. the court…” Andrew raised a brow and tore his eyes away from the court to look at Neil, who was wearing the expression of an abandoned puppy who’d just been told there was no Christmas and had then been kicked down the stairs when he thought he was about to be adopted.

It was not cute, just pathetic.

“Contain yourself junkie, it isn’t the end of the world.”

Andrew only stared back calmly when Neil shot him a scathing glare.

Dan dismissed all of them a few minutes later. Practice was cancelled completely for the day while she and Wymack figured out an alternative for their practices while the court was being fixed up. Since Kevin had decided to use the free afternoon to go to the library and get some research done for one of his assignments, Aaron had vanished to find his cheerleader, and Nicky was hanging out with Matt on some kind of “bro-date” (Andrew hadn’t asked and honestly hoped he would never find out), that left Neil and Andrew with the dorm completely to themselves.

Well… It was Neil, Andrew, and Neil’s Moping, which filled the dorm with heavy sighs every 3.2 seconds.

He was sitting on the couch, hugging a pillow, his cheeks slightly puffed out with a line creased between his brows like he was thinking far too hard about something utterly stupid.

Still not cute.

Not even the way Neil was chewing on his bottom lip, making its already full shape swell slightly and redden.

Pathetic. Not cute. Pathetic.

Alright. Maybe a little bit cute. But also annoying.

With a heavy sigh, Andrew crossed over to where his idiot sat. He stood in front of him and waited for Neil to look up and acknowledge him. Then, he nodded down toward him. “Yes or no, junkie?”

Neil frowned, confused (because he was an idiot), but nodded.

Andrew took that for the consent it was and tugged the pillow out of his hands to make room for himself, easily straddling the other man’s lap. He rolled his eyes at Neil’s surprise and cupped his face in both hands. “You are so fucking stupid,” he informed helpfully, then kissed him.

It wasn’t a hard kiss, or even a hungry one. He kept it small, but with a very pointed purpose. He aimed first for the spot where Neil had been tormenting his own lip with all that worrying, brushing his own lips against the divots made by his teeth and giving an admonishing nip of his own. Then he trailed small kisses to the corner of his mouth until he felt it begin to turn up. Once it did, he brushed his nose in exactly the spot he knew to find Neil’s secret dimple. He kissed the spot, then returned to that mouth, kissing and nipping in small pecks and touches all the way to the other side where he did the same. Only when he was sure he’d completely diverted Neil’s attention did he finally press their mouths fully together and kiss him like he was in desperate need of air and Neil’s lungs was the only place to find it.

They were both panting by the time the kiss broke.

“Wha-.. what was that?” Neil asked, his tone satisfyingly rough and breathy.

Andrew rolled his eyes, but his disdain was probably undercut by the way he was still holding Neil’s face, or by the way their foreheads now rested together as they caught their breath.

“You are such an idiot,” he grumbled.

He felt more than saw Neil’s smile.

“Yeah,” his idiot agreed.

Andrew rolled his eyes, and kissed him again.


	8. Kisses: andreil + neck kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous:
> 
> [[50? Because we all know the neck fetish is canon 😁]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/634146674265210880/50-because-we-all-know-the-neck-fetish-is-canon)

Sometimes, stolen moments in the locker room were just all that you were gonna get. Dorm living was not exactly suited to accommodate fucking privacy, after all.

Which was why Andrew had Neil backed against the lockers for a fast, dirty, hot and heavy make-out session that he knew was only going to rile them both up further -- but that was a problem for Future Andrew and Future Neil. Right now, he was thoroughly enjoying his mouth on his rabbit's. Andrew had his hands curled around Neil's waist, greedily shutting out any potential for distance between them as he pressed their hips together. 

Neil made a wrecked noise into his mouth and Andrew drank it down, tightening his hands in approval and dragging them up just enough to pull Neil’s shirt out of the way so he could readjust his grip onto bare skin. The feeling of Neil, hard and needy against him, trembling from his touches and his kisses and the fire between them, was enough to bring Andrew to his knees -- but he stubbornly kept his feet. 

For now, anyway.

Instead, Andrew broke away from Neil’s mouth with a gasp, intending to use the newly-acquired breath to order Neil’s hands onto his body -- his shoulders or his hair, some green zone that would at least partially satisfy the new Neil-related need to feel hands on him during these fits of passion. He did not get the chance to hiss out this demand, however, as the moment Neil’s mouth was freed he was using it in other ways. 

Soft lips grazed his jaw and Andrew felt the shiver start there and race all the way down his spine. He felt his own fingers tremble and his hands twitched, tightening on Neil’s sides. Neil made a sound that was somewhere between a hum and a moan and forged a path of kisses along his jawline up to his ear. Hot breath kissed Andrew’s pulse and his own lungs seized, a harder, more defined shudder racking him. The addition of teeth lightly grazing his ear had Andrew gasping and then the second that mouth found his neck he just could not stop the literal actual moan that escaped him. 

It would have been humiliating if he wasn’t so fucking distracted by the way Neil’s lips, tongue, and the barest weight of teeth were playing the sensitive skin of his neck like a goddamn fucking orchestra. Where the fuck had Josten learned to fucking do that?  
Against his will, Andrew tilted his head, a slave to his own base desires and the pulse of need now beating rapidly in his veins as Neil kissed and nipped and sucked a path down from just under his ear all the way to some sweet spot that Neil seemed to hone in on like a moth to fucking flame. He nuzzled in and sucked harder, and Andrew could feel the rumble of a moan against his skin -- though he wasn’t even sure at this point if the sound was coming from Neil or himself. 

“Fuck..!” he hissed aloud, offended by how breathy and rough the word sounded. 

Neil, and it was definitely Neil this time, moaned against his skin and nuzzled against him. He knew it was Neil this time because the moan came out in two need-drenched syllables. 

“Andrew...”  
Andrew would never be able to fully describe what it did to him, hearing his name like that on Neil’s tongue. Feeling it buzzing against his own throat. It was heady, it was dizzying, it was a weird sort of sorcery that Andrew would never understand. And it was really fucking hot.

Andrew growled through gritted teeth and used his hands on Neil’s waist to push them apart, taking a step back.

Neil made a weak sound of protest, leaning forward slightly as if to try and follow him -- but he aborted the motion when he recognized what he was doing. Always so conscious, his idiot was. Instead, Neil sagged back against the lockers, looking flushed and sinful with a wet, bruised mouth, flushed cheeks, and pupils dilated out to Saturn. Andrew wanted to kiss him again, so he forced himself to release him completely and take another step back. If Neil looked like that, he could only imagine what he looked like. Judging by the way Neil looked at him as he caught his breath, he had to figure it was pretty similar. 

Gritting his teeth, Andrew jerked his phone out of his pocket and texted Kevin, then he looked back up at Neil. “We are going back to the dorm. Kevin is finding somewhere else to be tonight.”

Neil blinked. The grin that followed the eventual bloom of his understanding was enough that Andrew wanted to roll his eyes. Instead, he resolved to make him suffer in much more satisfying ways once they got back to the dorm. 

With that goal firmly in mind, Andrew turned on his heel and lead them out of the locker room.


	9. Kisses: andreil + distracting kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous:
> 
> [[Your writing is so great! Could you do 42 + andreil? Thank you 💛]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/634150416188391424/your-writing-is-so-great-could-you-do-42)

They had an entire week off for Thanksgiving. Considering how nonstop the semester had been between classes and games and more (ugh) exy-related things, it was almost jarring to have an entire week where they weren’t expected to do, well, anything. 

Since Aaron was off with Katelyn for the duration of break, meeting her parents and the like, and Kevin was spending some belated father-son bonding time with the coach; it was just Andrew, Neil, and Nicky that had returned to the house in Columbia. This made the house quieter than normal, which was a nice reprieve. 

Today was particularly quiet, because Nicky had gone off with some old friends from Eden’s, leaving Andrew and Neil with the whole house to themselves. 

The whole house. With no one else. The first real privacy they’d had all fucking year... and what was Josten doing?

Homework. Because he was an idiot.  
Andrew glared at him for a long moment from his position on the couch right behind where Neil was sitting. He’d set himself up on the floor in the living room, his textbooks spread around him in a messy display that might as well have been a poster for How To Waste Your Time When There’s Clearly Something Else You Could Be Doing. 

Neil tapped his pencil against his bottom lip and rubbed his other hand through his hair, rubbing at the spot Andrew was glaring a hole into like he could subconsciously feel the heat of Andrew’s annoyed disappointment. 

With a quiet huff, Andrew unfolded his legs and moved forward on the couch, planting his legs to either side of Neil and leaning over him to look down at what he was doing. Chicken-scratch numerals dusted the page like some kind of code in a forgotten language Neil was attempting to decipher. Andrew sighed again, this time heavily enough to made Neil’s unruly fluff of auburn curls rustle. When Neil didn’t react to it, Andrew did it again, then ran his fingers lightly through the idiot’s hair in an attempt to put it to some sort of order. 

Neil leaned back slightly into the touch but still didn’t look up from his homework. 

Andrew glared and scooted forward again. He rested his forearms on Neil’s shoulders and propped his chin on his head. 

Neil... did math.

His annoyance growing, Andrew turned his head to rest his cheek against Neil’s hair and huffed again. He honestly wasn’t sure which was more annoying, Neil doing homework during vacation or how soft his hair was after so many years of destroying it with bad dye jobs. It just was not natural and easily the most suspicious thing about him.

Beneath him, Neil gave a little shiver as Andrew’s breath tickled down his neck. 

Andrew considered for a moment, then leaned down and pressed his lips to the side of Neil’s head, then down toward his temple, then the crest of his cheek, then back to nip at the shell of his ear. 

Neil was not doing math anymore. 

Rather, his pencil had stilled in his hand and Andrew could feel the satisfying tension of a held breath through the striker’s shoulders. With a pleased smirk, Andrew nipped again, then dropped his head further to press a kiss to the soft spot just behind Neil’s ear that always seemed to draw the most interesting sound from his rabbit. 

He was not disappointed by the downright pretty whimper that he got for his efforts. So he kissed the spot again, then again. Then, when Neil finally dropped the damn pencil and tilted his head, offering up the strong, bared expanse of his neck to Andrew’s attentions, Andrew followed that line down to his pulse. He took his time drawing more sounds out of his idiot as he sucked a dark mark into the side of his neck, only breaking away at Neil’s gasped, “Andrew!”

When Andrew pulled away, Neil twisted to be able to look back at him. His cheeks were flushed, lips slightly parted, blue eyes bright and his full attention finally where it was supposed to be. 

Much better.  
Feeling pleased with himself, Andrew cupped Neil’s face in one hand and brought him in, then kissed him until he’d chased every last notion of homework when he could be kissing Andrew out of his rabbits stupid little head.


	10. Kisses: andreil + cold hands/stumbling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous:
> 
> [[I'm loving your drabbles so much!! If you want, could you do 17 and 45?]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/634157673267494912/im-loving-your-drabbles-so-much-if-you-want)

Neil’s hands were shaking, and it wasn’t from the cold. Actually, it was comfortably warm inside Andrew’s New York apartment despite it being in the negatives outside. Through the large bay window Neil had been watching fat snowflakes drift past the streetlights like the ghosts of fireflies who’d forgotten that summer always ended. He had already been here for hours and nothing else had been able to hold his attention for more than a few minutes at a time, so he’d relegated himself to staring forlornly out the window like some wartime spouse awaiting the return of their soldier from the battlement. 

It was his own fault, really. Andrew had offered to cut out of practice early to be there to meet him, but Neil had scoffed at the idea. Andrew was the newest sign of the New York Daredevils, and even as a sub goalie he was expected to put in the time and show up to every practice just like everyone else – it didn’t matter if this would be the first time he’d be seeing his partner face-to-face in close to four months. 

Instead, Neil had used the key that Andrew had made for him back when he’d purchased the apartment back in May. He’d taken a cab from the airport and stood around awkwardly as the security officer in the main lobby of Andrew’s building checked his ID against the list of approved visitors set by the tenants of each apartment. Then he’d ridden the elevator up to the sixth floor and relearned the apartment he’d only spent a few days in back when Andrew had first moved in. 

That had only taken so long, though, and thus the awful waiting had begun. 

A sound from the front of the apartment jerked Neil away from his thoughts. The jiggle of a key in the lock suddenly banished his brooding. Without making the decision to move, Neil was on his feet and striding toward the door. He was still a good seven or eight feet away when it swung open. 

Andrew stood at the threshold, nose and ears pink from the cold, because after living in either ever-summer California or temperate South Carolina all his life he was struggling to adjust to the extra layers necessary for a Northern winter. Neil felt something tremble and crack inside his chest, like his heart was just remembering how to beat again. 

He took two half-stumbled steps forward, but Andrew was faster. Neil barely registered the sound of the door clicking shut as Andrew released it with enough force for it to close on its own, because in the next instant all he knew was Andrew’s mouth on his and the rough texture of Andrew’s coat under his hands. 

Every other thought instantly vanished from his head. All he knew was Andrew. It was like coming home. The weight of his mouth, the strength in his hands as they twisted in Neil’s sweater. The sure press of his body as Andrew propelled them further into the apartment without pulling their mouths apart. Neil’s back hit a wall but that didn’t break the kiss, only made him moan deeper into it. Andrew didn’t keep him there for long, pulling him away and turning him around. There might have been a counter, or a chair, some other hip-height piece of furniture that Neil’s body wasn’t paying attention to as they crashed through the apartment in a flurry of mouths and hands and gasps of need. 

“Neil,” Andrew rasped between kisses, pulling his mouth away for a panting breath. 

Neil saw the opening and happily diverted his attention to the exposed flash of Andrew’s neck peeking out from the parted collar of Andrew’s coat. His hands clung firmly to his partner’s coat as Neil pressed his lips against the bared flesh and he hummed in approval at Andrew’s answering shiver. 

“Neil,” Andrew said again, and this time it was on the edge of a sound that was a lot like a moan. Pleased, Neil nipped over his favorite spot only to jerk back with a sharp gasp as literal icicles suddenly pressed against his ribs. 

“Fuck!”

Andrew chuckled, the sound tight with his own pleasure and dusted with dry amusement. “Eager, junkie?” Not icicles. Andrew’s fucking hands, bare and fucking freezing because he didn’t understand how fucking winter worked. 

Neil scowled at him, unamused. 

Andrew just smiled back. It was a small expression and maybe on most people it wouldn’t be much, but on Andrew it was… it was everything. It was everything because it was soft and it was small and it was genuine and unencumbered. It was a true, quiet smile, pleased and… happy. 

Any irritation at the cold hands still remaining instantly washed away. Neil softened, his breath catching a little bit in his chest. He reached under his shirt and took Andrew’s hands in both of his, keeping them under his clothes and against his skin as he brought them up to press over his heart instead, trapping them between the marred but heated skin of his chest and the warm roughness of his own hands. 

“I missed you so fucking much,” he said quietly. 

Under his shirt, Andrew’s hands twisted to link their fingers as he stepped forward and pressed their foreheads together. In his boots, they were exactly the same height. 

“I missed you too, Neil,” his murmured against his lips, and Neil thought he could last a hundred of the coldest winters, sustained only on the warmth in those honey-hazel eyes.


	11. aaron loses his shit [M]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous:
> 
> [[can we get an Aaron POV of him beating the abuslute shit out of Jack in the locker room. i’m talking about slamming this boys head into the locker beating, he need kevin, matt and nicky to get aaron to stop and even then he still struggling to get more in till andrew comes into his vision. show me that same aaron from that secne in thanksgiving!!!]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/634320923022999552/can-we-get-an-aaron-pov-of-him-beating-the)
> 
> Including the a/n here for relevance:
> 
> [[I am so SO sorry it’s taken me so long to answer this!! Work was getting hectic and I was working on something else BUT now I’m for sure gonna get through the rest of these asks ^.^
> 
> Aaron losing his shit on Jack, huh? Well, we can sure do that ^.^ 
> 
> I changed a few things from your prompt just because as I was sitting down to write it made the most sense to me that if Aaron was gonna go after Jack it probably wouldn’t be about Andrew or Neil. Neil and Andrew take care of themselves, more or less, and if they can’t then they’ve got each other. Not that Aaron wouldn’t beat the ever-living shit out of Jack for doing or saying something to Andrew, but he just probably wouldn’t have to – if only because Andrew doesn’t care enough about Jack to be affected by him. 
> 
> Nicky on the other hand…? Well, I’m a bit soft for the twins being protective of Nicky.
> 
> Warning for violence, depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts, triggering language. Take care of yourselves.]]

“Jesus fucking Christ. That was the most pathetic excuse of teamwork I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life, and this is my sixth year coaching this fucks-forsaken team.” Coach Wymack had just spent the last twenty minutes ripping all of them brand new assholes. They were all tired, they were all angry, and they were all ready for this day to be fucking over, but it wasn’t over until the Coach had had his say, so here they were – sitting in the locker room, getting chewed out again. 

Not that they didn’t deserve it. Aaron knew they did.

It had been a brutal fucking loss. The Foxes trashed by some half-cocked team from Alabama. Even with Andrew actively trying to block the goal, there was only so much he could do when the other team’s offense kept breaking through their defensive line to swarm the goal. Matt was off the court with an injury, which meant the only backliners they had were Aaron, Nicky, and Keith – the freshman backliner who still couldn’t figure out how to fucking pass to a moving target. 

Aaron cared less about the loss than he did about the cause for it, and not for the same reasons as half the rest of the team. 

Nicky had been all thumbs and no energy tonight, but that hadn’t been a surprise – not to Aaron or any of the rest of the monsters. Nicky had been off for a few days, his usual chatty, chipper demeanor whittled down to strained smiles and shrugs in a way that the rest of the team had never seen before. Well, most of the rest of the team. Aaron had seen this before. Andrew had too. Neil and Kevin hadn’t witnessed it directly, but by now the other two “monsters” knew Nicky well enough to know this other side of him existed even if they hadn’t seen it. 

So yeah, he’d gone into this game knowing it was going to suck – knowing that they might lose. Maybe that had been their mistake. He, Andrew, Kevin, and Neil had been distracted – torn between concern for Nicky and the need to cover for him. The freshmen had been a nightmare about it and what the fuck even was teamwork. At halftime, the commentators had called it one of the worst performances by the Foxes in three years. 

Yeah.

But at least it was fucking over, right?

“Now get showered up and get the fuck outta my sight. I don’t want to see a single one of you fuckers until tomorrow – yeah, that’s right, we’re having Saturday fucking practice thanks to that sorry excuse of a game you pissed all over tonight.” Coach glared at all of them in turn. “By tomorrow I expect Nolan and Fisk to get their heads out of each other’s ass and Hemmick?” The big man’s gaze landed on Aaron’s cousin and he felt himself go stiff. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Andrew stand up from where he was leaning against the lockers. 

“Learn how to be a little less fucking useless. I don’t know what the fuck has been up with you the past few days but get it figure the fuck out. You hear me?”

The first pulse of genuine rage ignited in Aaron’s veins. His hands curled into fists and his vision narrowed. Nicky’s quiet, tightly muttered, “Yes Coach,” was partially drowned out by the dull roar in his ears. 

Anything he might have said or done was stymied, however, by Andrew, who slammed his fist against the lockers, drawing everyone’s attention away from Nicky and onto him. 

“Coach, I think we need to chat.” By whatever magic Andrew had over everyone that made everyone automatically take him more seriously than anyone else, he had Coach’s attention, just like that. The man snorted then jerked his head toward the door.

“Fine, but make it quick. I need to try and block out what just happened.”

Coach and Andrew left the room. For a minute, there was a tense, weighty silence, then someone whined and someone else bitched and normalcy returned – well, normal for a really shitty fucking day anyway. The women split off to their changing room to shower and get ready, and several of the guys did the same. 

Nicky remained seated, staring blankly down at his hands, shoulders slumped in utter defeat. That anger curled in Aaron again – not at Nicky and not at the fucking game, but at Coach and the team for being so fucking stupid, and at himself for not knowing what the fuck to do about any of it. Nicky’s depression was an open secret among their group. It was something they all knew of but never talked about. This was probably the worst episode he’d had in years and Aaron just felt… fucking powerless. 

When they’d noticed it, they’d closed ranks around Nicky as a group and shut out the rest of the team in a way they hadn’t done since the cousins’ freshman year. None of them were soft enough to take care of Nicky in the way he probably needed, but Andrew drove Nicky to Reddin Thursday morning and Aaron and Neil joined forces in helping Kevin hold his fucking tongue during practices when Nicky struggled to keep up with the rest of them. 

It was not gentle support, but it was all they had to offer.

It just… wasn’t fucking enough. 

“Jesus, Hemmick, are you fucking crying?” Aaron jerked out of his thoughts at the sound of Jack Nolan’s sharp, mocking voice. It was edged with a cruelty that went beyond the typical assholishness of the Foxes. 

“What, forgot how to fucking talk too? Wow, you really are useless aren’t you?” Jack continued when Nicky only flinched at his ridicule and didn’t rebuke him like he usually would.

“Hey, Jack, leave him the fuck alone. You didn’t do so great out there yourself tonight so why don’t you worry about yourself,” Matt barked from where he’d been sitting through Coach’s dress-down. He was wearing his jersey but since he hadn’t played tonight there was no need for him to have to peel gear off or shower. 

“Whatever.” Jack rolled his eyes like a petulant fucking teenager, but the look he shot Nicky was all cold predator. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and just go kill yourself?”

Even over the exclamation of Matt’s reprimand, Aaron still heard Nicky’s breath hitch. He remembered, vividly, the night two years ago when he and Nicky had been drinking and he’d asked him ‘How the fuck did make it through? We were fucking assholes, we are assholes, and you still stayed.’ He remembered not expecting the answer he got. He remembered Nicky looking down into his drink and saying, ‘I almost didn’t. Probably the only reason I didn’t try to off myself again was knowing that if I did, you two would go to my parents and I… I couldn’t let that happen. Didn’t care about me, but I could care about you. Caring about you guys kept me alive.’

He remembered the sick feeling in his stomach and the way that knowledge cut through his buzz, striking him sober with one fucking word: again.

Aaron did not make the decision to grab Jack, or if he did it was overwhelmed by the roar of the monster under his skin as it surged suddenly up from whatever dark place it had been lurking since that violent, bloody night last November. All he knew was that one moment he was standing there, and the next he had his hands on something that needed to shut the fuck up. 

He only vaguely registered the shouts around him as he dug his fingers into Jack’s shirt and whirled him around. Then the only thing that existed was the feeling of flesh and bone and the slick of blood against his knuckles as he drove his fists into every soft part of the body in front of him as hard as he fucking could. Jacks hands scrabbled ineffectually at Aaron’s shoulders, then his face, trying to hit him or grab his hair or push him off, but for all that Aaron was a small man he was a fucking backliner for a reason and he threw every single ounce of his muscle into shoving Jack into the lockers. 

A second later he was on him again, taking a fistful of his hair so he could slam his head into the lockers until the fucker’s knees buckled and he went down. 

All he could hear was the rumble of rage in his veins. There was no thought, no goal, no understanding – not of anything but the raw, unfiltered hate pouring out of him as he followed Jack to the ground. Distantly, he knew there was shouting or screaming – that there were words being thrown at him and hands desperately trying to haul him back. He felt the fingers curling around his biceps and tugging on his shoulders. But his wrath was far too powerful and each time someone got a grip he was able to wrench free and use that momentum to land another hit. 

At one point a solid arm wound around his waist and hauled him up and away. A sound like a feral animal ripped from his throat as Aaron thrashed wildly, trying to throw himself back onto Jack. The man had stopped moving at this point but there was a wet, raspy sound coming from him that still spoke of life and maybe Aaron hadn’t consciously decided to keep going until it stopped, but the drive was there all the same. 

The rest of the room was hazy around the edges, people were blurs of sound and color. The only thing in focus was the wheezing form of Jack fucking Nolan on the floor, and Aaron fought viciously to get back to him, jerking at the arms holding him back, kicking and trying to lash out with all his strength. 

Until something blocked his view. And it took a minute for Aaron to recognize what it was. To recognize who it was. 

“A-Aaron. Aaron. Stop. Please. It’s o-okay. It’s okay. I’m okay. S-stop…” 

The rest of the world snapped back into focus at the sound of Nicky’s gasped, broken words. Aaron stopped fighting so suddenly that he and everyone trying to hold him back stumbled. There were three of them, he realized – Matt, Kevin, and Dan. Neil and Andrew were flanking Nicky, the three of them blocking his view of Jack’s prone, gasping form but not actually trying to stop him from killing him. 

Nicky was crying, his eyes wide and his hands trembling as he held them out in front of Aaron, pleading him to stop. 

Aaron took a few more heavy breaths and realized he’d been panting. He looked from Nicky to Andrew’s cool, appraising stare, then to Neil’s similar expression before finally glancing beyond them to the mess that might have once been Jack Nolan. When he dragged his gaze back to Nicky, all he said was, “He shouldn’t have opened his fucking mouth.”

Nicky made a strangled sound, something between a sob and a laugh. Then he did something he almost never did and launched forward, wrapping his arms around Aaron in a tight hug. In a reflex that Aaron didn’t even know he had, his arms snapped around his cousin and he hugged him back just as fiercely. 

As Nicky sobbed onto his shoulder, Aaron looked over his hunched form and met his brother’s gaze. There weren’t words that could translate the look they shared just then, but if he had to label it, it might have been something like understanding.


	12. Kisses: andreil + throw their arms around them/passionate kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous:
> 
> [[Your writing is so amazing!! I feel like we don't deserve to ask for more because you already gave us so many great drabbles but if its no trouble, could you do 5 and 9?]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/634367891239763968/your-writing-is-so-amazing-i-feel-like-we-dont)

Seven months, two weeks, three days, nine hours, and seventeen minutes.

That’s how long it had been since Neil had seen Andrew. Seven long months and some change, where he not only hadn’t been able to see the man he loved, but had been barred from calling or communicating with him at all. It had been excruciating, but he had done it and each and every day he had told himself that it was worth it. That it would be worth it for this, this moment and every one that followed.

That had been the deal after all:

One last job for his uncle. One last push to secure the Hatfords’ hold on the isle and its alliances with their sister syndicates in France and Germany. Andrew had gone to Germany and Neil to France and had promised not to contact each other until both Dame Lucille and Der Gärtner had agreed to a very binding truce with the Hatfords. Once it was done, then both Neil and Andrew would be free – Neil of his familial obligations and Andrew of his debt to the syndicate. They could leave, walk away with no shadow, no leeches on their shoulders, just a long open road ahead of them where they could go wherever they wanted, be whoever they wanted, together.

Seven months, two weeks, three days, nine hours, and seventeen minutes.

Neil hadn’t even know it was going to end today, not until he got the call from his uncle about an hour ago.

_‘Are your bags packed?’ he’d asked when Neil answered the phone._

_'What?’_

_'Well, I’m just assuming you two plan to hit the road the second he lands, so I thought I’d check to make sure your bags are–’_

_'When? Where?’ Neil had interrupted as soon as his brain had caught up with the information he was being given._

_His uncle’s voice had softened, not quite to warmth but to something like understanding. Neil knew his uncle loved him – but his loyalty was always going to be, first and foremost, to the Hatford Syndicate. Since Neil wanted to leave it, he couldn’t afford to give him much of that care. At least, not outwardly._

_'His plane should land in about an hour. The apartment is yours for as long as you want it. You’ll always be family, kid. But… I understand if you want to disappear. It’s up to you, and I will respect your wishes.’_

And now, here he was. Standing on the remote private airstrip belonging to the family, watching as the small jet rolled to a stop. It took every fiber of his limited self-control to keep himself from breaking into a dead sprint and scaling the outer shell to be there when the fucking door opened.

Somehow, he managed.

Well, at least until the the stairs were rolled up and the door did open. A shadow fell across the opening from the inside, and then a man emerged - dressed in dark jeans and a black jacket, long blond hair in a simple queue over one shoulder, reading glasses still perched high on the bridge of his nose from whatever book he’d been attempting to read on the flight. Attempting, because Andrew had always hated flying, and any distraction was only ever partially effective.

The second Neil saw him, he was moving – though it wasn’t a decision he could recall consciously making. One moment he’d been standing back beyond the safety lines, lingering near the hangar, and the next he was moving forward. Then he was jogging, then he was running. Sprinting. Racing.

But he wasn’t the only one.

No one had probably told Andrew that Neil would be there, because he froze at first, the second he saw Neil, and even from the distance Neil could see the shock on his usually too-poised face. A beautiful, cold face that warded off every nuance. A stunning mask of indifference, shattered as he saw who was waiting for him.

For first came surprise, then another thing entirely – something that might have been pain or wonder or hope but was really just… love.

He took one tentative step down the stairs, then another. Then he took the rest in two leaps and was moving toward Neil with long, powerful strides.

They came together like the birth of a star. Fire and life exploding in a vacuum, creating gravity and the potential for and entire world to exist just within the realm of their touch. One moment they were twenty feet apart, then ten, then five, then a breath, and then not even that much. Two halves of a whole universe, expanding and contracting in the aura of their singular connection.

Neil’s arms instantly went around Andrew’s neck and Andrew’s hands wound about his back, clutching him like he’d bring him so close as to protect him behind the armor of his ribcage, sheltered right beside his beating heart. Then their mouths found each other and oh it was like coming home. It didn’t matter where they were. England, France, Germany, fucking Tasmania – mouth to mouth and soul to soul with their hearts matching a rhythm they could dance to in their sleep, as long as they were together they would be home.

They kissed not only as if to say 'hello’ and 'I missed you’ and 'this was far too long’. They kissed to remind each other, but not because they needed to remember – because how could you ever forget yourself? No, they reminded each other of their touches and their taste and the feel of their heat. They kissed to remember that this… This was forever and finally, finally, forever began today.

When the kiss finally broke neither could bear to pull far. Neil felt Andrew tremble in his arms and he was sure the other man was feeling the same of him. Their lips remained lightly grazing as they gasped for air, sharing breaths, shaky and light-headed and a little bit overwhelmed.

Neil’s voice was rough when he spoke, and all he could manage to say was, “Andrew.” Then, because he could finally say it, he said it again, and again.

“Andrew. Andrew. God. Andrew. I.. A-Andrew.”

“I know,” Andrew rasped quietly, putting only enough distance between them for their eyes to meet. Neil could still feel Andrew’s breath against his cheek and was not let willing to let go of that sensation, would not surrender that nearness. Not yet.

So he didn’t. So he held on. He looked into the most beautiful honey-sunrise eyes he had ever seen and he did not let go. He held on and he said, “Andrew.” He held on and he put eternity into his grasp as he held on tight and promised, promised, with each breath he took and every ounce of strength in his body, that he would never, ever, let go again.

Andrew looked back and held on just as tight, and with the shake of his soft gasps and the fierceness of his gaze, he promised too.


	13. Kisses: pynch + hand kisses/interruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous:
> 
> [[If you're still doing these, could you please do 34 and 22 for pynch? Because you know, hand kink is canon XD]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/634588688427499520/if-youre-still-doing-these-could-you-please-do)

Warmth had a weight. There was a physicality to the pressure of a heat that wasn’t hot, a touch that was a hold but wasn’t a grip. Not stifling, not restricting -- but secure and comforting. It was the difference between a blanket and a thick coat: both will keep out the chill, sure, but no one wants to snuggle up and sleep in a coat. 

Ronan wanted to snuggle up and sleep in Adam, though. When Adam touched him, when he sat beside him with no real space between them, pressing ever so slightly against his arm. When he took his hand and just... held it in his, just because he could, just because he wanted to. There was fire in his blood when he touched Adam, of course; when he looked at him, when he kissed him and tasted the sharpness of his tongue -- but there was also this... warmth that never went away and that Ronan never failed to notice. 

Then again, the day that Ronan Lynch failed to notice Adam Parrish was the day even his ghost had been expunged from this world and the next.

Even now, lounging on the couch at Monmouth Manufacturing as they each did their separate things, Ronan was viscerally aware of all things Adam Parrish. He had his head pillowed on Adam’s thigh as he watched drunk history videos on the laptop while Adam worked on whatever reading assignment for their shared English class that Ronan sure as fuck wasn’t going to bother doing. He was genuinely engrossed in the video he was watching (learning plus booze, it was a win/win), and yet his hand lifted automatically to catch Adam’s hand the second his Parrish Senses subconsciously registered the other boy chewing on his poor damaged nailbeds. Without ever looking away from the screen, he just reached up, captured Adam’s wrist, then gently tugged it down to cradle against his chest.

He felt Adam pause, then the satisfying weight of his attention. Ronan continued to watch his video as he said, "Leave your hands alone. What did they ever do to you?"

"I wasn't doing anything," Adam grumbled. Adam grumbled a lot around Ronan. He always had and he probably always would. When they had first met, Ronan had found this amusing and annoyingly attractive. Now that they were (finally) together, Ronan could forgive how attractive it was but that was really all that had changed. He had noticed a slight shift in the tone of Adam's grumblings, though. What used to be just annoyed was now affectionately annoyed and Ronan had to admit he appreciated the upgrade. Even though he couldn't see it, he could hear the slight pull of a smile at the corner of Adam's mouth reflected in his affectionate grumbling.  
"Mhm," Ronan agreed, so much skepticism in those two hummed syllables that Adam scoffed as he went back to his reading.

But he didn't pull his hand away.

Ronan smirked, because that was basically a win, and clicked on the next video. As it started up, he allowed his fingers to loosen on Adam's wrist without fully letting him go. When Adam turned his hand slightly, Ronan adjusted his grip to be able to tangle their fingers instead. He allowed his thumb to brush against Adam's palm, then down over the rough heel of his hand, calloused from work and dry with the season, to his wrist. He traced the soft protrusions of his veins, soft and pronounced against the pad of his thumb, then around to that pronounced bump right on his wrist. It was one of Ronan's favorite spots to kiss, that bump, and so that's what he did.

He'd stopped paying attention to the video at this point anyway, so he closed his eyes and sighed softly against Adam's wrist as he rubbed his nose over those soft veins and kissed a path from that artistic bump across and up to his palm. From there, he kissed his way to each finger, starting with the abused thumb, like he could soothe away the distress etched into the skin there.

Above him, Adam said, "Ronan."

Whenever Adam said his name it held a weight and a meaning to it that was like but not like the way his father used to say his name. When Ronan's father had said his name he'd made it sound like something sharp and powerful, like maybe he'd meant to say knife instead. When Adam said his name it didn't sound like he wanted to say another word -- it only sounded like Ronan, but with this physical, aching, perfect warmth to it that made Ronan want to wrap the both of them up in the sound and shut out the rest of the world.

Ronan opened his eyes and looked up without pulling his mouth away from Adam's hand. He held the other boy's stare as he kissed his way back to his wrist, taking his time with slower, open-mouthed kisses so he could taste the shiver on his skin and, when he got there, was able to feel the rushing of Adam's pulse against his lips. That was incredibly satisfying, and Ronan wanted more of it, so he grazed his teeth lightly and pressed his tongue to the thrum of Adam's heartbeat, unable to stop the pleased sound that escaped him when it jumped again. Since he was watching Adam, he got to see the way his breath caught, and how his eyes darkened.

Ronan pressed another nipping kiss there, then another a little higher on his wrist, follow e by another, steadily working his way up. It didn't take long before Adam grew impatient and Ronan loved it when Adam was impatient. Long, artistic fingers curled along his jaw and slid up the side of his cheek, and Ronan couldn't help but turn into the touch, pressing another kiss to his palm. Adam's hand cradled his face, then guided him up -- and Ronan went willingly, following that ascent to find Adam's mouth.

If kisses with Adam Parrish could be bottled up and sold they'd easily destroy the caffeine industry -- fucking overnight. Citrus lightning, a mouth full of summer that left firework imprints on the roof of his mouth and stole his breath in a galestorm. Kisses with Adam Parrish were lethal, and Ronan couldn't get enough of them.

He leaned up into that kiss, pushing up to his elbows. Adam helped him sit up fully without ever pulling their mouths apart - though whether that was because he just couldn't pull away or because Ronan kept following the path of his mouth was difficult to say. Adam's hands cupped Ronan's face and Ronan's hands clutched lightly at the other boy's bony wrists, and neither of them seemed likely to let go anytime soon which suited Ronan just fine. This broke only for an instant when Ronan dropped one hand to shove the laptop off his knees and onto the couch beside them. He didn't care if the thing crashed to the floor, didn't care of it broke -- he could always get a new one. What he did care about was that he had the space available.

Adam seemed to read his intentions because it only took a small tug and the other boy pivoted, moving to straddle his lap. Mouth on mouth, hands on hands, Ronan caught his breath and let it out in a quiet groan against Adam's lips. Fuck. Fuck, he would never get used to this. It was going to take him by surprise each and every fucking time Adam kissed him, every time he touched him.

"Adam," he heard himself gasp, his voice sounding rough and wrecked.

"Ronan," Adam sighed into his lips and fuck... Fuck.

Adam's mouth left his but didn't go far, his lips tracing a path down his jaw to his neck as Ronan's hands began their own exploration across Adam's broad, strong shoulders and down his arms. He palmed the heat of his back, down to his waist, and then, fucking gloriously, under his shirt to feel the smooth heat of his skin.

A sound lodged in Ronan's throat, but Adam dislodged it with the way his mouth was playing right at his pulse. Ronan tilted his head back and groaned and he felt Adam's pleased smile against his skin. Fucking brat. Bastard.

"You--" he started to say, only to get cut off as the door slammed open so loudly that they both jumped. Adam jerked back violently enough that he almost fell off Ronan's lap, saved only by the fact that Ronan was still gripping him about the waist under his shirt.

"Oh shiii-"

"Gansey, what?"

And there they fucking were. Gansey had frozen like a statue in the doorway and Blue was elbowing her way past him. Ronan glared viciously at the both of them as Adam hurriedly scrabbled off his lap.

"I fucking hate you. Both of you. You suck," he informed them with as dry an inflection as possible. "You are both dead to me."

Adam shoved his shoulder and rolled his eyes as he settled back in his previous spot on the couch, the effect ruined by how flushed he still was and the bruised look of his lips. "Don't be an asshole. Hi Gansey, hi Blue."

Blue narrowed her eyes at them suspiciously. "Were you two..?"

"Yes," Ronan accused.

At the same time, Adam and Gansey both said, "No!" in competitively unconvincing tones of alarm.

Blue looked from Gansey to Adam with a level of skepticism that almost made Ronan inclined to forgive her. Almost.

That's alright. Ronan would get his revenge.


	14. christmas morning with the monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @wolfstsrshipper:
> 
> [[Hello! Can I request andreil Christmas morning with the foxes? Or just them?]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/634952665093275648/hello-can-i-request-andreil-christmas-morning)

Sleepy, cozy mornings were a new thing for Neil. Not that he’d never been tired in the morning, or had never been warm and comfortable. There was a difference. Sleepy, for one, implied a certain level of inherent safety and lack of urgency that even throughout his entire first year with the Foxes he had never had the luxury of. Similarly, cozy was a foreign notion to him that carried a downy reassurance of safety he’d never been privileged enough to even consider. 

Right now, though? Right now he was basking in what was decidedly a sleepy, cozy morning. 

Light was filtering through the slatted blinds of Andrew’s bedroom in the house in Columbia like ghost-breath, pale and ephemeral in the early morning. Neil’s eyes were open, but only just, and his mind was so peacefully blank that he spent what could have been ten minutes and could have been a full hour just watching the light steadily warm and brighten, igniting the floating specks of dust like tiny fireworks in a celebration of such unfathomable ease. Behind him were the low, steady cadences of Andrew’s breathing against his shoulder and his heartbeat against his spine – a duet that Neil idly thought he’d be happy to play on repeat for the rest of his life.

So yeah, he was cozy. He was sleepy. He was… happy. And he was content to bask in that for as long as he could. Stray thoughts filtered through the haze of his only half-awake mind, none of them sticking, none of them elevating his own heart rate above its slow, relaxed beat. It was more that he just… noticed things, then let them go. He noticed the shifting of the light, he noticed the creaking of the house, he noticed that warm, pleased feeling that pulsed in his chest and spread all the way down to each finger and each toe when Andrew sighed and nuzzled his face against his shoulder, the arm around his waist tightening slightly. 

He allowed himself to wake slowly, and when he did feel alert and fully conscious, he remained in place to bask just a little bit longer anyway. 

“Hn..”

Behind him, Andrew made a small, sleepy noise of his own and tightened his arm around him again, fully hiding his face against the back of Neil’s neck. Since Andrew couldn’t see him anyway, Neil didn’t bother hiding the smile the action conjured. 

“Morning,” he offered in greeting, knowing the difference between Andrew’s unconscious movements and signs that he was actually awake but resisting it.

“Too early.” Andrew’s response was muffled, grumbled as it was against Neil’s skin, but decipherable. 

Neil shifted slightly, and Andrew instantly loosened his hold so that Neil could roll onto his side to face him. As much as he enjoyed being held by Andrew sometimes, it was still his favorite to lay facing him. He liked to be able to look at him, to watch his face and see the way light brought out new hues in his hazel eyes. They were almost green this morning, but flecked with brown that flashed gold when he narrowed his eyes into a glare. 

“What?” Andrew accused. 

Neil debated telling Andrew that he was beautiful, that getting to see his face first thing in the morning was his favorite thing about waking up in Columbia, that if it was the last thing he saw he’d count it worth it every single time. 

Instead he shrugged and said, “Nothing.”

Andrew’s glare narrowed and by the accusatory glance at Neil’s mouth, Neil supposed he must be smiling or making some other offensive expression that he knew Andrew must either like more or even less than he said, considering how often he would kiss it away.

Not this morning, though, which was preferable. Neil loved kissing Andrew. He did not like the particular vintage of ass that occurred first thing in the morning before either of them had a chance to brush their teeth. 

By the annoyed sigh Andrew made, Neil supposed he had come to the same conclusion. He didn’t resist when Andrew put his whole hand on Neil’s face to push it into the pillow, only humming in an amused way that he knew would annoy the other man. Andrew was already rolling out of bed when Neil heard the scoff that told him he’d succeeded on that point. 

Pleased with himself, Neil took an extra few moments to stretch, burying his face into Andrew’s pillow and inhaling deeply, allowing himself to go a little light-headed on the rush he got when his senses were flooded with Andrew’s scent. Andrew was gone by the time he’d fully roused himself and was back by the time Neil had changed out of his pajamas and into some lounge pants and a fresh t-shirt. They didn’t have any real plans for the day that he knew of and he was planning to hold onto this cozy feeling for as long as possible even if the sleepy bit had faded. 

Andrew was waiting for him in the hallway when Neil got out of the bathroom, holding a red bundle of knitted fabric in his hands. When Neil only raised an eyebrow, Andrew shoved it at his chest and said, “Nicky’s stupid tradition.”

Neil might have asked, except that he could now see that Andrew had pulled on a sweater over the shirt he’d been wearing when Neil had entered the bathroom. It was dark green with a gold and white tree on it, loopy knitted lettering proclaiming ‘Happy Holidays!’ with aggressive cheer. Now he knew he was grinning, and he didn’t even press a hand to his mouth to hide and cover it, because it felt nothing like his father’s smile. This was something entirely different, born of shock and awe and humor and affection in a combination Neil didn’t think he’d ever actually experienced before. 

“Put yours on before you come down,” Andrew ordered with a flat expression Neil didn’t believe for an instant. “I do not want to listen to Nicky’s whining.”

Then he turned and marched down the stairs, where Neil realized he could hear the sounds of quietly chipper holiday music and the rustle of bodies moving around. 

Neil looked down at the bundle in his hands and shook it out to see the design. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or groan at the image, which was probably the ugliest-looking rendition of a reindeer he’d ever seen in his life. Neil would never say that he had an eye for fashion or art, but this was just… sad. The shade of the nose was just slightly darker than the background of the sweater and he was pretty sure the animal was cross-eyed. 

Ah well, it wasn’t like he’d have to look at it if he was wearing it. With a shake of his head, he tugged it on and turned to head downstairs. At least it was warm. It was also big on him and knitted with something soft, so if Neil were to call it anything, he might say it was… cozy.

“Neil!” Nicky cheered from the stove when Neil entered the kitchen. He was wearing a bright green sweater with an elf on it. Or at least, he thought it was an elf. To his knowledge, elves didn’t wear purple eyeshadow, but hey – he wasn’t here to judge. “You wore it! I knew it was the perfect sweater for you.”

Neil raised an eyebrow and tugged on the sweater, looking down at it. “Huh. It’s that Christmas deer, right? Randolph?” he asked, full well knowing the correct name. He’d lived on the run for half his life, not under a rock. 

Nicky made a pained, whimpering sound. “Dead. I’m dead. You’ve killed me. Neil, don’t… don’t tell me you’ve never heard of… of Rudolph..?”

Neil looked up at him and affixed something between innocence and confusion on his face. “Isn’t that the guy who makes that snowman. Uh. Freezy or something?”

“Frosty! No, he–”

“Nicky, he’s fucking with you.” This from Aaron, who had no right to ruin his fun when he was sitting there with (a distinctly cross-eyed) Santa Claus on his own sweater. Why did all of these characters have a vision impairment?

Nicky looked from Aaron to Neil, who just shrugged and moved to make himself a cup of coffee. 

“Aww Neil, you asshole,” Nicky whined, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the grin on his face as he turned back to the stove, where he was just finishing up the bacon. It appeared to be the last thing on the menu, because the table was already laden with every single breakfast food Neil could fathom. Three different kinds of eggs, toast, waffles, sausages, biscuits – it was a regular feast and Neil’s stomach rumbled at the sight. 

“Wow Nicky, what’s with the spread. Did I forget someone’s birthday or something?” Neil asked as he took his usual spot next to Andrew, who’d been watching the whole previous exchange over the rim of his own coffee cup. 

Nicky turned around with the plate of bacon in hand, his expression stricken. “Neil you.. you do know what today is… don’t you?”

Aaron sighed and opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again and glared at Andrew, who must have kicked him. Neil bit back a smirk and frowned instead. “Uh… December twenty-fifth? Probably?” He looked toward the fridge, where Nicky’s calendar hung. The twenty-fifth was circled in green and red marker with two smiley-faces and at least six exclamation points. 

“Shit, it’s your birthday isn’t it? Sorry Nicky, I forgot. I’ll make it up to–”

“It’s CHRISTMAS, Neil! Christmas!!” He set the plate down, like he needed to get it out of his hands before he dropped it. Or maybe so he could fee his hands to gesture emphatically at the sweaters they were all wearing. And the paper snowflakes in the window. And the Christmas lights strung around the cabinets. And the little snowman figurines arranged in various places around the kitchen (even the salt and pepper shakers were a Mr. and Mrs. Snowman now).

Neil followed each gesture obediently, then met Nicky’s eyes. “Oh. Is it?”

The sound that came out of Nicky was something between a scream and a sob. Neil reached across the table and pilfered a piece of bacon, munching on it as the twins also started to fill their plates and Nicky pulled himself back together again. 

This time, it was Andrew that took pity on his cousin. 

“Neil knows what and when Christmas is, Nicky.”

Nicky looked from Andrew to Neil, then to Aaron (who rolled his eyes and took two extra links of sausage), before finally settling his gaze back on Neil. 

Neil blinked at him, then smiled – because.. well, he couldn’t think of a reason not to, and wasn’t that a weird reason to smile? Instead of commenting on any of that he stole two sausages directly off of Aaron’s plate and put them on Nicky’s, ignoring the affronted cursing from the other man. 

“Merry Christmas, Nicky,” he said pointedly, then went about loading his own plate. 

Neil had never thought much about Christmas before, it just hadn’t been anywhere close to his list of things to worry about. But now… now that he was able to think about things that, well, that weren’t worries he thought that maybe it was something he could kinda get used to. Maybe it was something he could like – especially if it meant sleepy, cozy mornings and times like this, where he could be so comfortable, so happy, in the circle of his family.


	15. Kisses: pynch + descending into passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @creativefiend19:
> 
> [[I'm a big fan of your Pynch writing. If you're still accepting prompts - No. 40? "A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them" is practically canon. A million bonus points if it's actually set during the Opal book.]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/635269228531941376/im-a-big-fan-of-your-pynch-writing-if-youre)

The first time Ronan woke that morning it was to the bed rustling and his pillow coming to life and abandoning him. It moved him with gentle hands and chuckled when he grumbled a complaint. When Ronan blindly reached out, groping for purchase to be able to drag it back, those hands caught his and soft lips pressed to his fingertips.

"I'm not goin' far. Go back to bed, Ronan," said the pillow.

Ronan grumbled, read to argue, but the protest died on his lips when one of those hands moved to the top of his head, stroking over the fuzz of hair growing back from his most recent buzz. Blunt nails scratched gently over his scalp and he sighed, already drifting back toward sleep. The embrace of dream was already curling around him by the time he realized that pillows don't actually have hands...

\----

The second time Ronan woke it was more naturally but there was a similar wrongness. An absence. This time, however, he woke up enough to realize that it wasn’t his pillow or a bedsheet or any other object or possession that had gone missing -- it was Adam. Annoyed, because he did not like waking up without Adam now that he’d gotten used to it (especially knowing that their days of this were numbered and swiftly dwindling), Ronan expressed himself with a grunt of dissatisfaction as he kicked the covers off the rest of the way and rolled onto his back, starfishing in the center of the bed as full consciousness descended upon him. 

He laid there for only a few minutes before he recognized the rumble-whirring of a large machine. Considering the Barns was set deep enough onto the Lynch property that their nearest neighbors were several miles away and you couldn’t even hear horns blaring from the road, this struck Ronan as decidedly odd. He frowned to himself and rolled off the bed, shuffling on bare feet to the window. Through the curtain he was able to see one of the backhoes (which he’d been sure didn’t even work anymore), digging into the ground. If he squinted, he could make out the familiar fluff of Adam’s hair catching the light. 

Opal’s erratic dashing didn’t require any squinting at all -- he’d recognize that little shit anywhere. 

It took Ronan a few minutes to figure out what the fuck those two weirdos were doing. When he did, he grinned to himself, shook his head, and dropped himself back onto the bed. He was getting better at this, and with sleep still clinging to the edges of his conscious mind it only took him a few minutes more until he was back to sleep. This time, he allowed himself to dream.

\----

The third time Ronan woke it was with an unnatural pipe in his hand, thrumming and alive-but-not. He spent about five minutes washing up before heading outside barely dressed. What was the point when they were gonna strip down anyway? 

It didn’t really strike him until he was nearing the spot that Adam had chosen for their new swimming pool that Adam had just chosen a spot for their new swimming pool -- or pond, whatever. But.. Adam. Adam had decided, on his own, to made a change to the Barns like it was his own home, like he had a right to be here and do things and make his own mark on this place. The fierce adoration that realization struck up in Ronan was like dropping a match on a bonfire doused in gasoline. He was burning up and all of it was yes yes yes forever this yes. Because this wasn’t Adam just following Ronan’s lead or blissfully ignoring his lifelong desperation to escape Henrietta so that he could enjoy the Barns with him. This was Adam Parrish making a choice to affect the world around him, to affect Ronan’s world, in a way that was permanent, knowing and accepting that it was going to be a welcomed change. 

It meant that whatever happened, Adam didn’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. Sure, he was going to college and being separated from him was going to fucking hurt. It was gonna be like operating without a limb. But they would make it through. Because Adam had chosen a home already. Maybe that wasn’t Henrietta -- but it was Ronan and that... that blew his fucking mind. 

Adam and Opal were sitting at the edge of the hole when Ronan caught up to them, watching the freshly-dug pit fill with water from a natural spring. 

“Are there going to be fish in it? There should be fish,” Opal insisted, baring her teeth in a way that left zero question as to why she thought there should be fish. 

Adam laughed, and fuck was that a beautiful sound. Light and amused, free. 

“No, I don’t think there’s going to be fish.”

“There should be fish!” Opal argued.

“Don’t you eat enough?” Ronan grumbled as he approached, making both of then turn to look at him. Opal scowled and made an obscene noise before dashing off, probably to eat a squirrel in revenge and leave its severed tail laying around where he’d step on it. She had a fucked up sense of retaliation. 

Adam, on the other hand, looked amused. 

“Hey,” he said, easy and relaxed. Then he smiled. 

“Hey yourself,” Ronan said, somehow still feeling like a lost king before a radiant star.

Adam’s eye caught on the pipe in his hand, then, and he tilted his head in question. 

Instead of answering, Ronan kicked off his shoes and stepped up to the edge of the hole. With a jump and a slide, he skidded down to the bottom, where the water was only just at his shins. He felt his way along with bare feet to find where the water was coming in the strongest and then crouched down, stabbing the pipe in. The effect was almost instantaneous. Within moments, cool, clear water began to shoot out the broader end, filling the hole rapidly. It was already to his waist by the time he made it back to the edge of the hole. Adam was on his knees at the edge, grinning, those eye bright as stars in the void of night. 

“How did you even know to dream up something? You reading minds now?” Adam asked as he helped haul Ronan out of the hole. They sat on the edge, watching it fill. 

“Heard your commotion and figured out what you were up to,” Ronan replied with a shrug.

“And here I thought I was going to give you a nice surprise.” Adam chuckled and bumped him with his shoulder, then turned and kissed him on the cheek. 

That simple, casually affectionate kiss sent tingles all the way down to Ronan’s toes. 

“Hey,” he said, and when Adam turned toward him again, he caught his face in hand and kissed him back. It started out small; it started out soft and simple and small. But nothing between Ronan Lynch and Adam Parrish could ever stay small and simple. It always grew into something magnanimous and magnificent and beautiful and frightening and real. So what started with the touch of lips became a tangle of breath, became a rush of senses and feeling and heat and light. Ronan was alive and awake in a way that somehow felt like dreaming because it was so incredibly charged with the power of making. Ronan would know, because he was a dreamer and that’s what dreamers did. 

One kiss, that’s how it started. Then Adam leaned in with a sigh and Ronan curled his fingers to tangle in Adam’s hair. Then Adam opened his mouth to him and Ronan was caught, snared by the taste of him and the rush it caused in his blood. There were lions roaring in his ears, an entire savannah storm raging in his blood with lightning strikes carving new veins in every line and limb of his body. Hands tugged and bodies moved, and Ronan got Adam into his lap. The weight of him was grounding and so, so satisfying as the other boy’s arms looped over his shoulders and the kiss deepened even further. 

Ronan groaned, his hands grasping at Adam’s waist now, slipping under his thin t-shirt to press to heated skin. The touch was enough to shoot fireworks up his nerves and when Adam moved against him like that...

Well, it was a damn good thing he’d dreamed that pipe to keep the water nice and cold.


	16. andrew smiling/laughing (plus kittens)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Anonymous: 
> 
> [[Aah I need more smiling and laughing Andrew from you now please!!! I'll be happy with anything you want to do with that! 💜💜]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/636607165861429248/aah-i-need-more-smiling-and-laughing-andrew-from)

Dan checked her watch for the third time and frowned. "Jesus, where the hell are those two? We're gonna miss our reservation if we have to wait for them much longer."

Their family had been spread to the winds for years at this point, but they still managed to get together once a year for some sort of a reunion. This year they were back in Palmetto the week before Christmas (something they tried to do every other year around the holidays). Half of them had arrived in town last night and the rest only this morning, but they’d spent most of the day itself imposing on Wymack and Abby (who had _finally_ moved in together). 

It had been a good time and though Abby had offered to cook for them, Dan had insisted that the whole team treat Abby and Wymack to dinner at a nice restaurant. Considering how many of them there were, the celebratory nature of the visit, and the general rowdiness of their group, it had been decided that the lot of them would carpool with Neil, Renee, and Kevin as the DDs. 

Renee and Kevin had already driven off with their allotted passengers, so now Dan and Matt were left waiting for Andrew and Neil to finish getting ready or whatever the fuck they were doing. 

“We won’t miss our reservation,” Matt assured with a chuckle, nudging her. “Miss out on the breadsticks? Well, that’s more likely...”

“Fuck that.” Dan was _not_ missing out on breadsticks so that Andrew and Neil could get in a quickie before dinner. With that decided, she whirled on her heel and charged back into the house. She instinctively angled for the hallway that lead down to the guest bedrooms, intending to make as much noise as possible as she tromped down the hallway so as to alert them of her approach. She was less concerned about getting stabbed these days as she was about seeing parts of her friends that she really, really did not need to see. 

Not that Andrew and Neil were grossly all over each other now or anything, but the years seemed to have softened the both of them. It was no longer shocking to see them holding hands or leaning casually against each other. They traded easy, casual kisses in greeting and simple affection just like the rest of the couples -- though there was still this... _weight_ to every interaction between Andrew and Neil that spoke of how hard-earned those simple, casual expressions of affection were for the pair. 

Dan didn’t begrudge them that. On the contrary, it warmed her heart every single time she caught one of those tiny actions of easy love and affection out of the corner of her eye. 

Accidentally walking into the wrong guest room and catching Andrew pinning Neil against the wall, both of them barely dressed, was an _entirely_ other matter and Dan was never going to be able to scrub that image or the _sound_ of the way Neil was fucking _moaning_ out of her damn mind. 

Yeah. She was officially scarred for life. 

So, while she was done waiting for them she was also not willing to add more trauma to her already considerable payload. She took a deep breath and prepared to start shouting and stomping when soft sounds coming from the den caught her attention. Now, if it had only been the little meows and scrabbles of kittens playing that would not have made her pause. After all -- the whole team had spent about four hours straight this afternoon going positively _gaga_ over the adorable little fuzzballs. Nancy, Abby and Wymack’s recent rescue cat turned out to be pregnant when they adopted her -- which they hadn’t realized at the time. Now they had a little bundle of kittens taking up space in the living room. Wymack had already tried to pass them out like candy to the rest of the team but no one had bitten. 

Well, that wasn’t true -- Nicky had wanted to take the whole litter, but Erik had kindly and calmly told him ‘ _no’_ in such an effective way Nicky had dropped the subject with little more than a bit of pouting. 

So if it were just that, she wouldn’t have paused. 

No, it was the quiet murmuring that bubbled over the kitten sounds that drew her attention. Dan cut off her shout before she could utter it and pivoted smoothly, heading instead for the den. She slowed her steps as she approached, holding her breath so the sound of her breathing wouldn’t smother what she could now make out to be words.

“We have plenty of space.”

“Drew, while you aren’t wrong -- I don’t think that five kittens is the best way to start a family.”

“Because you are such an expert.”

“Drew.”

A sigh. “Three then.”

“What, not going to try for four?”

Andrew -- because it _had_ to be Andrew, even though Dan was struggling to compute this particular conversation with Andrew ‘The Monster’ Minyard -- snorted in affront. “And leave just one all by itself? Don’t be stupid.”

Neil, because again -- it _had_ to be Neil -- chuckled. “We are not taking three kittens home with us, Drew.”

There was a long silence and Dan risked peaking around the edge of the doorframe. Andrew Minyard was sitting on the floor with his back against the armchair, mostly facing away from the door and absolutely _covered_ with kittens. One was on his shoulder, two were wrestling between his folded legs, and he was holding the other two against his chest, his face turned down as he _nuzzled_ the little fuzzballs, all while glaring at Neil over the top of their furry heads. Well, Dan _assumed_ he was glaring. She couldn’t actually see enough of his face to gauge his expression, but even covered with kittens this was still Andrew ‘I Wear Fucking Knives Everywhere’ Minyard, so she felt it was a safe enough assumption. 

Then again, she _could_ see most of Neil’s face, and _he_ was looking at Andrew with an expression that Dan had no other description for other than “abject adoration”. So who knew, maybe Andrew was smiling gently and...

Yeah, no probably not.

Neil sighed, and Dan knew that sound. It was the sound of a man too much in love to say ‘no’ to whatever his partner wanted. Of a _person_ too much in love to say ‘no’ to their love’s request, actually -- because she knew that she’d made that sound _more_ than once regarding Matt. 

“Alright, fine. But not three. Two. Two kittens. That way they won’t be alone and might be somewhat manageable.”

Dan thought that Neil was in for a rude awakening if he really thought that any number of cats were ‘manageable’, but she’d let him figure that out for himself. She could tell that Andrew was debating an argument, but he ultimately shrugged -- which she supposed was an agreement. Then he handed one of the kittens in his hands to Neil and gently scooped the one off his shoulder and added it to the squirming fluff-pile in his lap. 

Neil held up the kitten and studied it, then his face broke into a wide, bright smile as the little black poof reached out and batted at his nose with the sweetest little squeak. The sound must have drawn the attention of the other kittens because they suddenly all turned their attention to Neil and launched a less-than-coordinated assault, even the one in Andrew’s hands squirming free to jump onto Neil. Neil barked out a laugh in surprise and jumped, ending up on his back as the kittens overran him and took him for his own. 

With a sound that Dan didn’t really understand, Andrew pushed up to his knees and crawled around to be able to lean over Neil’s head as the kittens tussled and romped all over his partner. This change in angle allowed Dan to see Andrew’s face, and then her brain sort of caught up with her ears and she realized that she _did_ know that sound -- because Andrew was making it again. He was laughing. It wasn’t a big laugh, not bright or rapid or voluminous. It was small, and soft, but there was a rich, deep quality to it that sang with genuine affection as he smiled down at Neil. 

“See? I still say we should take all five. They are already a well-formed strike team.” Andrew. It was Andrew ‘I Eat Strikers For Breakfast’ Minyard saying those words. Smiling softly down at Neil. Chuckling as he reached out and brushed just his thumb over the tiny head of a fuzzy black and gray kitten. 

“Two,” Neil said again, but Dan wondered exactly how firm he was going to be able to remain on that point with the way he was looking up at Andrew. “We can convince Aaron to take the other three then set up play-dates.”

Andrew laughed again, a quiet dance of sound between barely-curved lips. His eyes were still on the kittens. “Aaron would not know what to do with a cat.”

“Neither do I.”

Andrew looked down at Neil then and his expression lost the smile but became... so much more intimate that Dan almost looked away. “No,” he said. “But you have me.”

Dan’s chest tightened and she had to physically lift a hand to cover her mouth. She could feel the imprint of her own smile against her fingertips.

“Yes or no, Drew?”

“Yes.”

Dan turned away as Andrew leaned down to kiss Neil, slipping quietly down the hall to rejoin Matt. Maybe they could afford to be a _little_ late to dinner.


	17. Kisses: pynch + sweaty kisses/whispered words of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous: 
> 
> [[Your pynch kiss drabble was so lovely aaa!! Could you do 31 and 32 for pynch too if its no trouble?]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/636629163562958848/your-pynch-kiss-drabble-was-so-lovely-aaa-could)

“This... fucking... sucks... dirty -- fuck! -- hairy... monkey balls!” Ronan grit his teeth around each word, panting as he fumbled around for the next apparent hand-hold and hauled himself up another few feet.

Maybe eight or so feet below him, Adam huffed out a breathless mockery. “You realize... that this... was actually... _your_ idea,” came his half-grunted, half-growled response a few moments later. Despite the obvious strain in the other man’s tone from the effort of dragging himself up the side of a rocky cliff in the middle of August, there was no actual ire behind it. In fact, Ronan was familiar enough with Adam’s voice and how it shifted depending on his expression that was pretty confident that he was actually smiling. 

As they were currently about half a mile up along the side of a jaggedly sloped cliff face, though, he was less than willing to look down to be sure.

Also, Adam wasn’t wrong. It _had_ been his brilliant fucking idea to climb up the side of a fucking mountain in the hottest fucking part of the day. Granted, he had a good reason, and he still thought it was going to be worth it, but hot damn fucking _fuck_ this sucked _ass_. 

“Should’ve.. fucking... taken the.. fucking helicopter.” Now _that_ was where he’d gone wrong. He’d thought it would be better climbing on their own. Then it could be just him and Adam, and it would make the moment... just... better or something. Plus, he knew that Adam didn’t like flying and he didn’t want to fuck it all up by making Adam do something he didn’t like. Besides, Adam had seemed excited about the idea of hiking to some secluded spot in the mountains. Granted, neither of them had realized that they’d have to scale a fucking cliff because the bridge across the river on the other side, where there was a _path_ up to the summit, had gotten wiped out in a flash flood last week. 

They could have decided to turn back at that point. Honestly, when Ronan suggested that they climb up from the other side, he’d _expected_ Adam to tell him he was fucknuts crazy and that would be the end of that. He’d just have to rethink his plan or try again another day. But Adam hadn’t written it off like he’d thought he would. Adam had looked at the steep but not vertical incline of the peak, then he’d grinned at Ronan and... well... 

Ronan had just sorta fallen in love all over again. 

So they’d climbed the cliff. Well, they _were_ climbing the cliff. It was an in-progress sort of thing. Ronan was hating his life, but not actually -- because even though it was too damn fucking hot and he was soaked through with sweat and his arms hurt and his hands hurt and his everything fucking _hurt_... he was here with Adam and every now and then from below him he heard the other man laugh or huff with triumph and each time it gave him a shot of energy like espresso laced with lightning. 

Like now -- Adam laughed at his whining and it was like a punch to his pulse and suddenly he had the energy for another ten feet of climbing. 

“Nah...” Adam panted. “I definitely... have a better view... this way.”

Ronan rolled his eyes, but even with the heat of the August sun bitch-slapping him every time he looked up, he still felt his cheeks burn at the words. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to Adam openly flirting with him. They’d been together for fucking years now, and hopefully... 

Well, point being, it always made him feel like a twelve-year-old meeting one of the Backstreet Boys in person (look, they were fucking COOL okay?) and getting an autograph with a wink at the handoff. 

“Fucking asshole,” he grumbled, but even he heard the baring of a grin in his own voice. Adam continued to snigger from below, and Ronan shook his head, pushing onward. It was only a few more feet now, and seeing the promise of the top had Ronan feeling both more energized and more tired than he’d ever felt in his life. 

With an extra push and a grunt for emphasis, he dragged himself up and over that final lip, which was about four feet of a straight drop. His arms shook, but that didn’t stop him from pushing up to his knees and instantly turning around to offer his arm to Adam. Long, strong fingers curled around his forearm and he did the same as he pulled the other man up, losing balance and falling back with a groan of discomfort, because the pack he was wearing was not exactly a down fucking pillow. 

Adam chuckled above him and gave him a light shove so he could roll onto his side. This was less for Ronan’s benefit as much as it was so Adam could get to the canteen strapped to the pack. With considerable effort, Ronan at up and swiveled around as Adam drank. He didn’t hesitate when the canteen was then offered to him and gulped down the cool salvation with greedy intent. Only when the worst of his thirst was quenched did he drop the canteen and sigh, looking back over at Adam. 

But Adam wasn’t looking at him. 

Adam had shifted up to his knees and was staring out over the canopy, the winding river, and the deep valley beyond. Robin’s-egg eyes were wide with beauty-tinged wonder and Ronan could see the way his breath caught, the way his throat tightened at the sight. 

“Ronan...” Adam said. 

Ronan screwed the top back onto the canteen and set it aside, shrugging out of his pack and feeling instantly lighter. It was still too damn hot. He felt sticky and half-suffocated with the heat not only pressing down on him but radiating out from his overworked muscles after all that exertion. Sweat had soaked through his shirt and every other bit of fabric on his body and his eyes were stinging from the salt of what had been dripping into his eyes for what felt like hours, even though he’d thought to wear a bandana. All of that was forgotten as he looked at Adam, as he thought about Adam, as he pushed up to his knees beside him and touched his hand. 

All he thought... all he _knew_ in that moment -- was that he was doing the right thing here. There were no regrets, no doubts, no second thoughts. 

“Adam,” Ronan said. And maybe there was something in his voice, because when Adam looked over at him he had the look in his eyes like he was still seeing something so beautiful it astounded him. Then his expression softened, warmed, and it was the look that Ronan knew best -- the one that greeted him in the morning, the one that was often the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes before he went to sleep. 

“Adam,” Ronan tried again, and his voice caught, but fuck it if he was going to let something stupid like _emotions_ fuck up this moment so he bared his teeth and pushed through, quickly catching up both of Adam’s hands in his and gripping them tightly. “Look. I brought you here because. Shit fuck. I brought you here because it’s supposed to be the most beautiful view in the state. And I wanted to show you something of home and something of... of somewhere else... that is so beautiful it hurts. Because you... That’s you. You’re home, and you’re somewhere else. You’re new and you’re so familiar. You’re like a limb. My favorite limb. Some vital organ that makes it possible for me to breath right or think right or... or just... You’re the organ that gives me love and I don’t ever want to do anything without having you there where you can keep that.. that power running through me.”

Adam’s eyes were wide but Ronan couldn’t let himself focus on how the blue of them had gone hazy with the mist of tears. He couldn’t let himself see the tremble of his lips and the flutter of a smile. He pushed through and looked down to where they were clutching each other’s hands in shaking, trembling grasps -- both of them white-knuckled and numb to the palms. 

“For a man who can literally make dreams reality, can have anything I could ever fucking want -- nothing... _nothing_ would make me happier than if you...”

His voice cut off with a surge of emotion. He thought of _having this_. He thought of Adam. He thought of his mom. He thought of the Barns and of Matthew and Declan and Opal. He thought of everything and everyone he had ever loved. He thought of his dad. He thought of the nightwash and the terrible things that lived beyond the realm of the waking mind. 

And he thought of _Adam._

Adam’s voice. 

Adam’s smile. 

Adam’s touch as he brushed his fingers over his hair, whether it was shaggy or freshly buzzed. 

He looked up and met Adam’s eyes, and even though the other man was already nodded, his breath coming in soft hitches around the way he bit just slightly into a his lower lip, Ronan pushed through. 

“Adam, will you marry me?”

Adam made a soft sound and Ronan didn’t understand it the first or second time, but by the third he recognized the curve of the vowel and the hush of the ‘s’. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. _Yes yes yes yes...”_

There was no point attempting to hold back the grin that broke across his own face as the answer fully registered. So he didn’t bother. He smiled. He smiled with all the volume of a shout. Then he was pulling Adam close and kissing him. And fuck, he was so tired from the climb and the energy of all those damn words that he could feel the way his _own_ lips were trembling. Weak, sweaty, giddy with dazed relief, but he couldn’t _not_ kiss him. 

“I love you,” he murmured against his lips -- or maybe it was Adam speaking to him. “I love you I love you I love you...”

Forehead to forehead, their sweat and breaths mingling, Ronan clutched Adam, pressed their joined hands to their heart, and he _smiled._

_“Tamquam,”_ Adam said, his lips just barely moving against his own. Still smiling, and the both of them crying now. Just a little. 

“ _Alter idem.”_


	18. andreil proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For wolfstsrshipper:
> 
> [[Second ask, can I also ask for andriel proposing (not sure who proposes but plsss)]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Post](https://kiirynilcc.tumblr.com/post/637768910854324224/second-ask-can-i-also-ask-for-andriel-proposing)

The woman on the other side of the counter wouldn't stop _smiling_ at him. Usually, when Andrew glared back at unwelcome overtures of friendliness, all smiles dropped and people did better about leaving him the fuck alone. This particular saleswoman was eerily unaffected.

"We just got a new collection in that we haven't had a chance to set up in display case if nothing here has caught your eye," she suggested now, gesturing toward what Andrew assumed was the back room with an even bigger smile on her face. "You seem like a discerning man. Nothing but the best for your special someone, am I right?"

She wasn't wrong, but Andrew was not about to tell her that. The last thing he needed was for her to start _cooing_ or something. This was why he shouldn't have waited for the last minute to do this and should have just ordered the damn thing online.

A part of him was tempted to wait on it just so that he wouldn't have to go through the pain of ring shopping in person, but the only reason he'd waited so damn long was because he kept second-guessing himself when he _knew_ better. He'd first thought of it almost a year ago now when Neil had first signed on with the San Diego Wolverines, putting him on the opposite end of the country. It had been a gut impulse. He'd wanted Neil to have something not just of _his_ but of _them_. He'd instantly shut down the embarrassingly romantic thought and hadn't allowed himself to think of it again until a few months later when he finally got to see Neil in person for the first time since the week before summer training.

Well, until Neil had to _leave_ after a too-short visit just before summer training. Then it had been all he could think about for weeks. Every Skype call, every text, every glimpse of Neil playing on the tv.

It had even gotten to the point where he had even fucking brought the idea up to Aaron. Yes, Aaron. He'd called him while watching the playback of one of Neil's games just after the little idiot had antagonized both on-court backliners of the opposite team into going after him. He'd ended slammed against the wall then the floor multiple times, but his partner striker had also managed to get three goals while the backliners were distracted. Neil had limped off the court but not before flipping off the other team _and_ the cameras. Once he was led back to the benches, Andrew got to watch as Neil pulled out his phone - likely to type out the text that had been waiting for Andrew when he'd finished up his own game.

**It isn't bad. I'll ice it tonight. Promise.**

Because Neil knew that Andrew watched at least the highlights of all his games. He knew that Andrew would see the brutal takedown. Would see him hobble off the court. Exy was a violent sport and mild injuries were common enough - but he knew that him goading and then being taken down by two backliners each double his size would worry Andrew. So the first thing he'd done, before even attempting to insist he wasn't too hurt to finish the game, was text him.

Watching Neil get fussed over by the team's medic, Andrew had dialed his brother.

 _'I think I want to marry him,'_ he'd said without a greeting.

 _'No shit, sherlock. About fucking time,'_ had been his brother's response.

That had been a couple months ago. And he'd put it off. He'd tried not to think about it. Tried to talk himself _out_ of it.

And in the end, here he was, standing in front of a display case of wedding bands and engagement rings at an airport jewelry store while the saleslady smiled at him like he'd just told her he was going to name his firstborn after her.

Andrew checked his watch and sighed, then nodded at her, making a ‘get on with it’ gesture with one hand. He didn’t have long before his flight would be boarding and nothing in front of him was jumping out as being particularly exceptional. He knew that beggars couldn’t be choosers, him having left this to the last minute as he had, but he may as well see all the available options. 

The woman _beamed_ at him in a way that was quickly getting on his nerves, then quickly scurried off. She returned after only a minute or so, carrying a moderately sized black case. “I’ve got to say, this is probably the most stunning collection we’ve had in. I saw it in the catalog and hoped it would be sent to our store, too.” There were maybe twenty rings in total, and he had to admit -- they were more elegant than most of the others on display. Simple with just small details in etching, stone lay, or shaping to set them apart from each other. There was also a variety of metal colors, from yellow gold to rose to platinum and a darker metal Andrew didn’t know enough about jewelry to name. 

Andrew considered all of them carefully, dismissing the flashier styles and the cumbersome solitaires. He had done _a little_ bit of browsing online in between those flashes of ~~panic~~ uncertainty, and he knew Neil. His partner’s taste wasn’t really a factor, as he didn’t exactly have any (his interest in Andrew being the general exception), but his lifestyle was. With that in mind, Andrew said without looking up, “I will also need a matching chain.”

“A chain?”

Andrew ignored her for the time being as he ran his thumb over a dark-metaled band with a single thread of rose gold running through the center. He plucked it out and took a closer look, imagining it on Neil’s hand and diligently blocking out the rush in his chest at the visualization. Right now was the time for a practical mind. He did not have the time to wallow in any emotional repercussions to making this purchase. 

“This one,” he finally said to the saleswoman, showing her the ring and quoting Neil’s size. “And the chain as well.”

“Oh, of course! Excellent choice. I’m sure your sweetheart will love it.”

Andrew grimaced. “Trust me, he is anything but a sweetheart.” If it surprised the woman at all that he was shopping engagement rings for another man she didn’t show it. She only continued to beam at him, chuckling like he’d made some joke instead of a blatant truth. 

Ten minutes later he had a little black velvet box tucked into his pocket as he made his way back to where most of his team was milling about. Static whirred in the overhead and then a smooth female voice announced it was time to board.

"Flight 87 to San Diego is now boarding in Gate G9." 

For once Andrew wasn’t sure if the swooping in his stomach had to do with the upcoming flight or the weight of a future sitting in his pocket.

\-----

Andrew had begrudgingly accepted that he enjoyed playing exy now that he was on a professional level and things were more interesting. He liked working together with his defensive line and the other goalie to form themselves into an impenetrable unit, and he even got along with most of his team. Or, at least, he and most of his team had an _understanding_.

It was an understanding that allowed them to be at the top of the league and give Andrew the space he needed to not feel smothered. They worked together as a team, and Andrew was always invited to their bonding nights. No one pressured him to actually show and when he did decide to participate no one made a big deal of it. He was permitted to interact on his own terms.

It was a good setup, and so he'd already told his team that he wouldn't be there tonight for whatever after-game dinner they had planned. They also knew that he would be returning to Pennsylvania separately, and only two people were stupid enough to ask about why more than once.

The game went about as expected -- in that Neil’s team lost spectacularly but not without putting up a fight. Even though they lost, Andrew could see Neil brimming with bright, furious energy in the last quarter of the game. He was having the fucking time of his life, and every single time he attacked the goal Andrew caught glimpses of his savage grin.

In the end, it wasn't enough, but Neil was still wearing that smile when they all lined up at center court for handshakes. If Andrew held a bit longer and tighter to Neil's hand when it was their turn, no one seemed to notice.

"You were incredible tonight," Neil said to him once all was said and done - the press handled and both teams showered and dismissed. They were walking across the stadium parking lot to where Andrew's rental was parked. Neil exclusively relied on his bike or public transport and Andrew had not been willing to put up with that bullshit while he was in town.

Andrew snorted. "If you ask me to wear my goalie mask during sex I am going to call it quits, junkie. Contain yourself."

"Wait, is that an option?" Neil stopped walking completely and turned sharply toward him, eyes wide.

Unamused, Andrew shot him a look and kept walking without bothering to dignify that bit of stupidity with a comment.

Neil didn't lag behind for long, laughing brightly as he jogged to catch up. "Joking!" he assured as they reached the car. "Of course I'm joking. The mask would get in the way and, if I'm being completely honest - which I try to do these days - I like being able to see your face."

There was once a time when Andrew would have pointedly kept his gaze turned away so he couldn't see the look he knew was on Neil's face at that moment. Or he would have shoved Neil away, nailed him with a scathing remark, distracted him somehow. It hadn't even been all that long ago, not really. He'd been afraid of what that look meant, cautious of the sentiment it implied, panicked at the threat of what might happen if he let Neil in.

Tonight Andrew did not look away. Instead, he turned his head and basked in the light of Neil's eyes like a cat in the sunlight. He met his gaze and soaked him up, let himself settle into that warmth. If Neil was surprised by Andrew's tolerance it didn't show. He just tilted his head and smiled until Andrew finally lifted a hand and shoved his arm just enough to get him moving.

"Get in the car, you maniac. Let's get back to your place."

Neil chuckled but relented without comment and got into the passenger seat. Andrew hadn't even gotten the car started when he felt Neil's gaze on him again, warm and enveloping like hot chocolate in the bitter winter. Again, Andrew turned to look at him. Again, he basked - just a little.

This time, Neil's expression shifted just slightly, the edges of pain tightening around his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, Andrew saw Neil's hands curl into fists on his lap.

"I missed you," Neil said quietly, and his voice was tighter than it has been a minute ago. There was a hoarseness of emotion to it that rang in tune with the hollow place in Andrew's own chest.

A hard swallow, then Andrew lifted a hand and cupped Neil's cheek. He brushed his thumb over the scars there, tracing them. He didn't say that he'd missed Neil, too. He didn't say that each day waking up without him near was like waking up without a leg, leaving him aching and frustrated as he had to relearn how to move and function when a vital part of him was too far away to touch. He didn't say... Well, he didn't say anything at all.

Instead, he leaned his forehead against Neil's and took a slow breath in. He waited until he felt Neil do the same, and then they exhaled together, mingling their breaths as proof of their proximity. He felt the warmth of it on his cheeks and another loose and rattling piece inside his chest settled into place. He kissed Neil once, just briefly, on the lips, and then dropped his hand and pulled away to start the car.

\-----

Neil's apartment was only a short drive away from the stadium, but traffic dragged it out unnecessarily. They had ordered food ahead of time and swung by the restaurant on the way to pick it up, which added another ten minutes to the drive but it was better than waiting on a delivery. 

Even with the detour for food and the press of traffic slowing them down, the drive itself didn’t actually _feel_ long. Neil carried the conversation, picking up from their last phone call as he talked about his teammates and the strange little hole-in-the-wall diner he’d been frequenting lately or the stupid pictures an overly enthusiastic Matt Boyd had sent him from the pro backliner’s recent trip to the zoo. (“Twelve, Andrew. He sent me twelve pictures of what I’m pretty sure were all of the _same ostrich_. Ostriches aren’t even that interesting.”)

They split up briefly as they got to Neil’s apartment, Andrew to drop his things off in the bedroom and Neil to unpack the food onto actual plates. Andrew hesitated for only a moment as he parked his suitcase, then crouched before it and unzipped the pocket where he’d stowed the ring. He had no big plan for this. There were no flash mobs waiting around the corner, no puppies with cute ribbon collars, no scheduled flyovers that would drag a banner or write a message in the sky. Andrew didn’t do grand gestures. He did not buy into commercialized love. He also was very aware of who his partner was and knew very well that Neil was the same in that regards. 

Neither of them needed that, wanted it, or - frankly - even _understood_ it.

But Andrew knew that he _did_ want Neil in his life. He knew that he wanted him as his partner. He knew that he wanted him as his husband. It wasn’t something that he and Neil had every really talked about and there was a very real chance that Neil would say _no_ \- not because he didn’t want to be with Andrew, because Andrew knew that he did, but because Neil already _had_ an impression of what marriage looked like and it was not a good one. Perhaps if they were different people, with a different sort of relationship, that would have made Andrew table the idea altogether.

But they weren’t other people, and their relationship was theirs and theirs alone. They were Andrew and Neil, not anyone else, and even if he knew nothing else, Andrew knew that even if Neil did not want to marry him, his asking wasn’t going to hurt them.

So he didn’t have any big plans. He hadn’t hired singers or put together a collage of their relationship. He didn’t invite their friends and family or light candles or spread out flower petals. He didn’t even get down on one knee.

Instead, Andrew took that little box in his hand and walked out of the bedroom and directly to the living room where Neil had set their dinner on two tv trays in front of the couch as he fiddled with remote to put on one of their favorite seasons of Hell’s Kitchen. Neil smiled over at him when he heard him coming. 

“Hey, perfect timing. Did you want to start right at the beginning or skip to episode two since we watched the first episode last week? I kinda want to start right at the beginning.”

Andrew shrugged, which Neil took as agreement and turned back to the tv to select the first episode. 

“Pause it for a moment,” Andrew said as he sank onto the couch beside Neil, though he kept his gaze on the frozen flames on the screen even as Neil turned to fully face him. He always did that - always gave Andrew his full and undivided attention even when he had no idea what Andrew wanted to say. For Neil, it was always just enough that Andrew wanted to say anything at all. 

A hiccup of nerves spasmed suddenly and uncomfortably in his chest, but Andrew batted it away. All he was doing was asking a question. Just one more to the hundreds of thousands that he had already asked over the last several years. This question was no different. It meant nothing more and nothing less than any of those other questions. 

So Andrew asked it the same way. 

He turned and met Neil’s eyes, then revealed the box without any particular flourish or grandeur. He watched as confusion smoothed to surprise then understanding as Andrew opened the box to show the ring inside. 

Then he said, “Yes, or no?”

He had meant for the words to be casual and even, but they came out softer than he intended. The hand that held the box was shaking, too - which Andrew only noticed when both of Neil’s hands cupped under it. 

Neil looked from the ring up to Andrew’s face and, like he always seemed to be able to, _read_ more there than anyone ever could. Those blue eyes warmed to summer, his smile turning soft and filled with a sentiment that did not, _could_ not, have a description in any of the languages that Andrew knew. Andrew didn’t know what Neil saw when he looked at him like that. He had never asked and probably never would. He wasn’t sure he was ready to know, wasn’t sure he would _ever_ be ready. 

“Andrew,” Neil said, his voice just as quiet, and Andrew realized he was holding his breath. “You know it’s always yes with you.”

Something terrifyingly wonderful seized Andrew’s chest and squeezed. It dried out his throat and beat heavy drums in the center of his chest. It took too much effort for Andrew to nod his acknowledgement, and his hand was still shaking as he plucked the ring from the box and revealed that it was on a chain. “So you can keep it with you,” he said in explanation, his voice coming out a bit too hoarse. 

“I want to wear it now.” Neil’s voice wobbled. He laughed as they both tried and failed to unlatch the clasp several times before getting it - both of them with hands too shaky to get it on the first try. 

Then Neil was wearing it, and he was _smiling,_ and there was this glow in Andrew’s chest that he didn’t think would ever really fade. 


End file.
